The Perfect Doll
by Lazarus76
Summary: A young man thinks he is happy alone, another harbours an obsession. But is it wrong if its love?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Plot bunny that has been hopping in my head for a while. I did get inspired by some other writers for this one!**

He was watching. Again.

He knew the routine. Knew it precisely. Up at 6.30am, to go for a run. Return. Shower. Shave. Breakfast. Leave the apartment. Go to work. Stay in work for at least nine hours, sometimes more. Leave work - always with the same two, a petite brunette and a tall blonde man.

Never alone. Until he was home. Home, in a four walled prison, clearly devoid of any love.

Devoid of love.

That would change.

And change soon.

* * *

Arthur sighed as he checked his email. It was nearly 6pm, and he'd been in the office since 8. _Long day, _he thought, tapping a pen against his teeth.

He pushed his chair back and looked round. His office was beautiful - a corner office, granting him a panoramic view of the city. He was paid a hefty salary for what he did, and he did enjoy his job - research. Putting together cases against companies and presenting them was perfect for him - he could keep himself to himself and work at his own pace. The company director, Saito, always praised his work. As did his line manager, Dom Cobb.

A soft knock made him look up. Ariadne Davis, his junior director, was standing in the doorway.

"Arthur? Are you going to finish up soon?"

Arthur stretched. He should take a break.

"Soon," he said, aware that Ariadne would not be fooled by the elasticity of the word. "I really need to-"

The young woman frowned. "Come on. Its Friday! I'm leaving soon, so is Dom. We were thinking of going to the movies. _The Debt._ Want to join us?"

Arthur bit his lip. "I'm not sure..."

"Come on..." she said, gently. She opened her eyes, and looked straight at him. "Please?"

Arthur exhaled. Ariadne was impossible for him to say no to. "OK," he said, finally. "But..."

"But what?"

"Its just..." Arthur swallowed. "I don't like feeling as though I'm intruding on you two."

"You're not!" Ariadne exclaimed. "Your Dom's best friend, and mine! We just want you to-"

"Live a bit?" There was a ghost of a smile on Arthur's face. He looked at her. "Ari, I know you and Dom think I should enjoy life, but this job we've got on, its just so-"

"Leave it behind," she insisted. "We're going to the 9pm showing at the Light Theatre. Meet us at the local coffee shop beforehand?"

Arthur smiled, properly. "I could do with a mocha."

Ariadne nodded, grinning. "Good." She checked her watch. "I'm leaving now, see you later!"

Arthur turned back to his computer, not noticing her as she walked out of the door.

* * *

An hour later, he was in the apartment. He pulled off his suit jacket, and draped it over a chair.

Everything was neat, orderly, organised. His kitchen was immaculate, with the cutlery and utensils neatly stacked. The fridge was divided into partitions. As he went into the main bedroom, he carefully hung his suit jacket up, before heading to the shower. He undressed, carefully laying his clothes in a neat pile, away from the jets of water.

Thirty minutes later, he was clean. As he sprayed himself with scent, he thought about what to wear. Finally, he decided he could be a little more casual. It was Friday, after all. Reaching for a pair of black jeans and a white shirt, he got dressed, and started to feel nervous.

There had been such a knowing twinkle in Ariadne's eye that afternoon. As though she'd got something planned. Frowning, Arthur reached for the gel, and smoothed a handful into his hair. He hoped she wasn't planning on fixing him up with someone.

"I'm ok by myself," he muttered, squinting at his reflection in the mirror. "I'm ok by myself."

He nodded, as though the matter was decided, and reached for his black leather jacket. Pulling it on, he noticed it was a little looser than when he'd last worn it. Shrugging, he reached for his keys, and snapped off the bedroom light. Heading to the door, he opened it, and locked it carefully behind him.

* * *

He was coming.

He looked so delicious - clad in black leather, and tight denim. So attractive.

Patience is rewarded.

* * *

Arthur began walking down the steps of the apartment block, and stopped. He looked round, hesitantly.

A slight scuffling sound. He stood poised, straining his hearing. He shook his head, sighing. He was too jumpy, too tense. _Work related stress, _he could almost hear Ariadne saying. He continued walking.

Suddenly, an arm reached behind him, and grabbed him. Before he could shout out, a handkerchief clamped down on his face. Arthur felt himself inhaling the sweet, overpowering fumes of cholorform, lapsing into unconsicousness.

* * *

Ariadne looked at her watch, and frowned slightly. Dom looked at her over the edge of his cappuccino. "What's up?"

"Its quarter to eight," she replied.

"And?"

"Arthur said he'd be here by 7pm." She looked at Arthur, her face creasing in concern. "He's never late."

Dom took a sip of coffee. "Relax. He'll be here."

"Maybe we should call-"

"Ari," Dom interrupted. "He'll be fine." He reached over, and touched her hand. "Trust me."

* * *

A finger stroked the side of his face. He looked so peaceful, so content. His features were perfectly composed.

That face. It was positively angelic. He could picture the creases at his eyes when he laughed, those dimples when he smiled. And those eyes, the way they changed from cinnamon to golden brown.

He was beautiful.

His touch faltered. This is what he was reduced to. Abducting. Hiding away.

_But you'll stay with me. You'll be with me forever._

* * *

Ariadne looked at Dom. His face was beginning to reflect the tension she felt.

"Its nearly half nine..." her voice was small, hesitant. The dregs of the coffees sat coldly on the table; any thoughts of going to see the movie were long forgotten.

Dom nodded. "Let's go to his apartment." He tried to speak lightheartedly. "He may have fallen asleep."

Ariadne nodded, her face lightening. "Let's go."

* * *

Arthur blinked. He felt disorientated. Turning over, he realised he was on something soft. A bed?

As he tried to reach, he realised that he was handcuffed.

He tried to open his mouth. No sound.

He was gagged.

He was alone.

**All reviews appreciated. Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur tried to scream. No sound, except a series of muffled gasps.

He raised his hand, and tried to yank the gag down, only to find it was tightly bound and knotted at the back of his head. He felt his eyes fill with tears of frustration, and used his wrists to brush them away. Trying hard not to cry, for fear that if his nose became blocked he'd suffocate, he tried to sit up and make himself comfortable.

What had happened? A short while ago, he'd been carefree, leaving his apartment, about to meet friends. Instead, he was a captive. He didn't know who for, and he had no idea why.

_Who is keeping me here?_ His mind screamed. Swallowing, he decided to try and get up, to see if he could find anything that would leave a clue as to his whereabouts. He began to put his feet on the floor, and with a thrust of his hips, lifted himself off the soft surface.

The room was completely dark. He started to take a few steps forward, only to encounter something large, and solid. He leaned forward, and brushed it with his knuckles. Wood.

Furniture.

Arthur's mind began to whirl. A bedroom? An apartment? With halting steps, he began to move around again.

* * *

"Arthur!" Dom started hammering on the door. "Arthur, if you're in there, open up!"

Silence.

Dom turned to Ariadne. Her ivory skin was deathly white, and she was biting her lower lip. "We should call the police-"

He shook his head, curtly. "They'll tell us to wait 24 hours." He lifted his fist, ready to bang on the door again.

* * *

He sat silently. Two hours. He'd been in the house two hours.

He couldn't hear him. Too high up. A huge house it was easy to lose people in.

Unless you wanted to find them.

He wanted very much to find him.

He took a sip of scotch, and looked at his watch. Another half an hour. Then he'd go to him.

* * *

Arthur tried to wander around the room, trying to guage where he'd find a light switch. He put his hands out, trying to feel the walls.

They were papered. Interesting. Who had wallpaper? He began to feel along it, more carefully. The paper felt cool, and ridged slightly. But no light switch.

He blinked. His hand was feeling fabric. Startled, he took a step back, only to find himself moving back into what felt like a wooden box. He tried to gasp, but it was blocked by the gag.

Two hands grabbed him, one on each shoulder. Steadying. He swallowed. Suddenly, the hands moved upwards, with a gentle touch. To his shock, Arthur realised he was being blindfolded.

"Sit down," a voice said. Arthur realised he had no choice but to obey. As he sat, he listened to the voice. It sounded deep, slightly smoky. And it wasn't an American voice. He blinked again, feeling his eyelids restricted by the soft, silky fabric.

"I'm going to unlock the handcuffs." The voice was low, but there was a warning in it. "Don't try and do anything."

Arthur swallowed. He heard the scratching of a key inside the tiny metal locks, then the mechanical spring as they snapped undone. As they were taken off his wrists, he flexed them. Suddenly, a hand grasped his wrist.

"Don't." It was a statement. Arthur nodded.

"I'm leaving the room now," the voice informed him. "I will switch the lights on. I will see you soon."

Arthur heard a door shut, and the room flooded with electric light. He raised his hands, carefully untying the blindfold. He blinked, astonished, as he untied the gag.

He was in a bedroom. A large, furnished bedroom. Furnished, he noted with increasing amazement, antiques. An elegant dresser stood against one wall; a four poster bed dominated the main part of the room. Turning again, he took in the wardrobe. It was tall, and deep. Swallowing, he walked forwards, and turning the key, opened it.

It was full of suits. Beautifully cut, expensively tailored suits. He grabbed one, pulled it out, and checked the label. 29" waist. His size.

Arthur felt himself begin to shake. This wasn't an accident. This was planned. He was in the bedroom of what looked like a mansion, with a wardrobe of suits that had clearly been bought for him. He noticed another door, and walked to it, turning the knob.

A bathroom. A white bathroom. Huge bathtub, with a shower head. A sink. A toilet. And male grooming products. He walked over to the shelf, examining them. Sitting on it was Arthur's brand of cologne, and his favourite shower gel.

"Jesus!" Arthur said, softly. His own voice frightened him.

Suddenly, he gagged. Shock and nausea overwhelmed him, and he turned, leaning over the toilet. As his skin came into contact with the smooth procelain, he heaved.

* * *

He checked his watch. _Soon. Please. Soon. _

* * *

Arthur rinsed his mouth, spitting out a mouthful of the clear, cold water. After he wiped his face, he walked back into the bedroom. He ran his eye over the bed. And noticed something lying on it. A note.

He leaned over, and picked it up.

_Come down for dinner. Wear the grey suit. Thank you. E_

Arthur crumpled the note in his fist. Who was this person? What did he want? A rush of defiance mixed with another emotion swirled through him - submission. Whoever this was, he had Arthur. And, the dark haired man realised, he was dependent upon them for his survival.

Fighting a swirl of emotions, he reached into the wardrobe, and pulled out the grey suit.

**Reviews are always welcome - thank you!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur finished buttoning the grey vest, and slipped on the jacket. Leaning forward, he examined himself critically in the full length mirror.

The suit fitted him perfectly. The vest hugged his torso, exposing his slender waist. He swallowed, noting how the soft grey flattered his skin and eyes. He turned, realising that the sharply cut trousers perfectly outlined his behind and legs.

Arthur blinked. He wore suits everyday. But not like this. He wore them purely for work, to assert his superiority at Saito Industries. But this...this was as though he were dressing up for someone's gratification. Like a new bride, whose husband insists on her revealing shorter and shorter skirts. Tighter tops.

As though he were a doll. There, to be dressed, admired. An uncomfortable memory flashed into his mind. He was ten, his sister eight. She was playing with her Barbie dolls, which Arthur sneered at.

"They don't do anything," he jeered. "They're just for show."

Alex had looked up at her older brother, her expression bemused. "But I like them, Arthur."

"All you do is dress them up!"

"I want them to look nice," she had said, stubbornly. "Look nice for me."

Arthur swallowed. He looked at his reflection. He was still alive. Still flesh and blood. He rubbed his face. He was wearing the suit that E had requested, now he had to go to dinner.

With who?

And why?

He grabbed the dressed. What he felt was fear. A few hours previously, he'd had a life, an identity. Now he was in this room, with things bought for him, as though he was here purely for someone else.

Exhaling slowly, he stood up. It was time to go downstairs.

* * *

No answer.

Ariadne felt her eyes fill with tears of frustration. No response, either on Arthur's cellphone, or from his landline.

Swallowing, she turned to her computer, and clicked on her internet icon. Her bookmarks flashed up: Facebook, hotmail, twitter...

Nothing. No Facebook message, no email, no tweets. His accounts had ground to a halt, exactly thirty minutes before they were due to meet.

She brushed away a tear.

* * *

Arthur opened the door, cautiously. As it opened, he put one foot outside, and then eased his body out. His eyes widened as he took in his surroundings.

It was a beautiful hall. Long, and carpeted. A dark bannister curved down a flight of stairs. Graceful lights flickered on the wall. Luxury and money was embedded in this hallway. In this house. Artwork was across the walls - expensive, tasteful, modern pieces. He began to walk, down the stairs.

The downstairs hallway was just as luxurious. Arthur swallowed, as he approached a door that was partially ajar. He could tell, from the smells perfuming the air, that this was the dining room. He swallowed, squared his shoulders, and pushed open the door.

* * *

_I want to look at you. _

_Look at you in the flesh. _

_I can't face you. _

_I'm sorry. _

* * *

Arthur looked around the room.

It was large, an impressive oak dining table squarely centred in the room. Tall, flickering tapers burnt at each end. He also noted that it was set for two - formally set.

He blinked. It looked so obvious, so staged. Except, it was equally evident someone had gone to a great deal of trouble. Someone clearly wanted to impress. He sniffed. Duck...against his will, he began to salivate.

He felt unsure of what to do, so decided to pull out a chair, and lower himself into it. He hesitantly reached out, and touched the cutlery. On impulse, he grasped it, noting with shock how heavy it was.

Silver.

Arthur blinked, letting the fork tumble from his fingers. He could feel anxiety knawing in his stomach now, no room left for hunger. He shuddered. Someone had brought him here, to make him wear expensive clothes and feed him expensive food, yet no-one was revealing themselves, and he-

He got up. Anger was beginning to course through his veins now. He had been brought here against his will, but he wasn't going to stay here. Pushing the chair back, with a force that caused it to topple over, he got up. He was going to find a way out.

* * *

"Hi, is that Mrs Ogilvie?" Dom waited patiently before a confirmation was uttered. "Hi, its Dom Cobb here, Arthur's boss, and friend."

Ariadne paused on the edge of her seat. She cast a look at Dom, who was biting his lip.

"No, its just - well, thank you," he said, finally. "Yes, thank you."

The phone clattered back into the cradle. He turned to the young woman.

"He's not there," he said simply. He looked at her. "We wait another few hours, then we call the police. I promise."

She looked at him. "What if its..." her voice trailed off. "What if its already too l-"

He looked at her. "It won't be."

* * *

_I have to face you. _

_Have to. _

* * *

Arthur walked purposely to the door, and opened it. He looked down the corridor.

No-one. Nothing. He exhaled, and began to walk down it.

Suddenly, he heard a creaking sound.

Footsteps. Footsteps of someone with a heavy tread. A man. A large man.

His heart began to hammer in his ribs. Barely pausing, he ran to the end of the corridor, praying that he might find a door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

_I knew you'd try to run. _

_Knew you'd try to get away. _

_Thats why I did what I had to. _

_Believe me, darling, its done out of love. _

* * *

Arthur moved down the corridor. The sound of footsteps was coming closer. He swallowed, hearing his ragged breathing.

The door. He grasped the handle, and turned. Locked. He cursed himself - whoever had taken him, of course they'd ensure there was no escape. He berated himself for his own stupidity. How naive, how foolish, to think the person who'd orcheastrated this eleborate abduction would be willing to give him up.

He'd realised there was only one thing to do. Moving out of the shadows, he cleared his throat, and directed his words to the hitherto unseen presence.

"I don't know who you are," he said, his voice harsh and aggressive, "but you need to realise something. I have friends. I have family. I have an employer. People are going to be looking for me! You haven't a chance! Just let me go!"

Silence. He took a deep breath.

"I know what you're doing!" he shouted. "You think if you buy me expensive clothes, keep me in a lovely room, I'll want to stay! Its not going to work! Let me go, now!"

Silence.

Arthur could feel himself losing control. He ran his hand over his face, and swallowed. One last try.

"Look, my employer is very, very wealthy." He realised, with a jolt, how pathetic, how desperate, he was beginning to sound. "He could pay you up to ten million dollars! You'll get the money! Please, let me go!"

Silence. He closed his eyes, feeling the perspiration run between his shoulder blades, soaking the shirt. Suddenly, a quiet chuckle made him look up.

"Ten million? You think you're worth ten million dollars?"

The voice was throaty, husky - but amused. Arthur blinked, and bit his lip.

"I-" he couldn't find the words. Ten million. He suddenly realised how egotistical it sounded. Saito, he realised with a jolt, probably didn't even know he existed. Only Cobb had any dealings with him, and he reported them to Saito. The magnate would not just pay out ten million, or possibly even ten dollars, for him.

"You're more precious than ten million. Much more."

Arthur blinked. The words had been spoked with an intensity of feeling he'd never heard before. There was real passion in the other man's voice. He swallowed again, noting how dry his mouth was becoming.

"Please..." he said, his tone soft. "Please let me go. Please!"

"You think you'll get what you want by asking nicely?"

"Yes." Arthur practically whispered.

"If I ask nicely, will you give me what I want?"

* * *

Dom rubbed his face. Swallowing, he reached for the phone, and dialled.

"Hello. Police? I'd like to report a missing person."

* * *

"What do you want?" Arthur noted his voice sounded small. He flushed with anger.

"Dinner." There was genuine surprise in the voice. "With you."

Arthur took a deep breath. "Just dinner?"

"Yes." There was a pleading note in the voice. "Just dinner. Please, darling-"

Arthur flinched. "Don't call me that. My name is Arthur."

"I know what your name is."

Arthur bit his lip. Of course he did. He knew his name, where he worked, what size he wore, what cologne he liked...The duck. He even knew what Arthur's favourite meat was.

"You know everything about me, right?" Arthur shouted. He lowered his voice. "Know what you are? A stalker. A psychopathic stalker. You need dinner, and you need a therapist."

Silence.

"You need help!" Arthur roared. His voice echoed in the vast space.

"I need you."

Stunned, Arthur took a step backwards. "What?"

"I need you." There was a pleading note in the voice, slight desperation. "Please. I need you."

Arthur decided to play along.

"If I have dinner with you..." he said slowly, "will you let me go?"

"You'll have dinner with me?"

Arthur exhaled, slowly. "Yes."

The footsteps began to move down the stairs, more quickly. As they came closer, Arthur lifted his gaze, fearful of what he would see.

"No, just - go into the dining room," the voice said, suddenly sounding fearful himself. "I'll join you there."

"OK." Arthur was surprised at how steady his voice sounded. His breathing had calmed. "I will."

He turned, and walked back along the corridor, entering the dining room. The candles were starting to gutter, he noticed; and he had a suspicion that the food was probably barely lukewarm. But he wasn't interested in the food. He began scanning up and down the table, searching. When he spotted it, he carefully secreted it in his sleeve. Then he sat himself at the table, waiting to meet his captor.

* * *

_You're scared. _

_I'm scared. _

_I know you'd reject me, I know I'm not what you'd want. _

_This is why I have to do this. _

_I have to make you into what I know will want me. _

* * *

"May I help you?"

"Yes, I hope so." Dom swallowed, and turned to look at Ariadne. He nodded.

"What's the problem?"

"A friend of our has gone missing," Dom said, carefully. "We'd like to report it."

"How long has he been gone?"

"We haven't seen him since-"

"Sir, is it less than 24 hours?"

Dom bit his lip. "Yes."

"Sir, we can't do anything for up to 24 hours. Please call back tomorrow. Thank you!"

* * *

**Reviews are always welcome - thank you!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur sat, waiting.

He could feel the tension forming a hard knot in his stomach. He put his hands flat on the table, and realised that his palms were becoming damp.

_I'm not afraid of you, _he silently challenged his abductor. _You should be afraid of me. _

* * *

_I know I stole from you. I took things that you can never replace. _

_I did it because I knew that what you would have instead would be even better. _

_Me. _

* * *

"Any luck?" Ariadne asked Dom, her face tight with tension. He rubbed the back of his neck.

"No," he replied. He slumped in a chair, letting his legs sprawl out. "They can't do anything for 24 hours. And if they do..." he looked at her. "Arthur is 30. He's entitled to go where he wants."

"But he wouldn't go anywhere without letting people know!" Ariadne's voice had jumped half an octave, a reflection of her rising anxiety. "He wouldn't just abandon his friends like this!"

Dom exhaled. "No, you're right. He wouldn't."

"So...what do we do?"

The older man focused on her face. "We try and think of who would want to take Arthur." He swallowed, trying to quell a knawing feeling in his stomach. "And why."

* * *

Another footstep. Arthur exhaled, slowly. This was becoming tiresome.

Another. He listened carefully. The footsteps were becoming louder, and quicker. He realised that his abductor must be just outside the door.

Quickly, he got up, hiding behind the partially opened door, letting the heavy wood obscure any view of him. He sucked in his breath, listening.

Another footstep.

And then another.

He caught a glimpse of a body, moving just inside the door.

As quick as he could, Arthur sprang from behind the wooden shield, and brandished the small, sharp fork, making a stab for the abductor's face. He swiped desperately, only to suddenly feel a hand - a large hand - clamp its way around his wrist. It squeezed, causing a bolt of pain to shoot through his forearm. He gasped, both from shock and from the sensation.

"Drop it." The voice was toneless. Realising he had no other choice, he relaxed his fingers around the fork, allowing it to clatter soundlessly to the thick, carpeted floor.

"Please sit down." The voice was calm. Swallowing, and refusing to look up, Arthur felt the grip on his wrist relinquish. He moved back towards the chair, and re-seated himself.

"Thank you." There was a slight edge of desperation in the voice. Arthur kept his eyes on his plate, refusing to look up. A sullen throb of anger had replaced his rush of rage. He was stuck here, he reasoned, but he didn't have to communicate or give this individual the satisfaction of his time.

"Please, Arthur-" his head snapped up, and he locked eyes with the man sitting across from him. As he realised what he'd done, he exhaled, his breath releasing in an angry gasp.

"What's wrong?" the other man asked.

"You made me look at you," Arthur snapped. "You used my name!"

The other man leaned forward, letting the candles fully illuminate his face. "I'm sorry...but...I want you to..." his voice faltered, and faded away. Arthur blinked, taking in the other man's features.

He hadn't been expecting this. He'd been expecting someone disfigured, someone ugly, some poor soul who had to keep himself hidden from the world, for fear of being jeered at, mocked, abused. But the man sitting opposite him was startlingly good looking - dark haired, penetrating light grey eyes, and smooth skin over firm cheekbones. He had the fullest lips Arthur had ever seen on a man, and as he looked closer, realised that physically he was broad, muscular. A handsome young man, sitting across from him. Dressed impeccably in a dark brown suit.

The other man blinked. "Are you-" he broke off, and reached for his wine glass. Arthur noticed his hand was trembling slightly as he picked up the delicate glass; a drop of red wine fell onto the tablecloth, spreading and staining like blood from an open wound.

"OK?" His voice was mocking, icy. "No. I am not ok." He glared at him, then narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

The other man licked his top lip. Arthur couldn't help but follow the movement with his eyes. "I'm...Eames."

"Well, Eames." Arthur's voice was glacial. "Its been lovely, but I have to leave now." He pushed his chair back, not breaking eye contact. "People are looking for me. So, unless you want to give up your mansion, and spend the rest of your life rotting in some hell hole, I suggest you nod your head, and let me go."

Eames took another sip of wine. He put the glass back down on the table.

"Arthur," he said, his voice calm, but with a pleading undertone, "please, have dinner with me first." He swallowed. "Please?"

Arthur looked at him. "Let me go."

"Dinner, first. Please."

Arthur blinked. He clearly had no choice. "You let me go. After this."

Eames picked his glass up again. "Please eat." He gestured towards Arthur's plate.

Arthur lifted the lid. Duck, in a congealing sauce He picked up his fork, burying it in the glistening mound of meat, and tore some off. Angrily, he thrust the forkful into his mouth.

To his surprise, it was delicious. Melted on his tongue. Then he blinked. Of course it would be delicious - Eames wanted to impress him.

"Do have wine," the other man insisted. "Its...vintage."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't surprise me." He picked the glass up, and sniffed. A rich, bellicose scent rose from the ruby liquid within. He looked at Eames, penetratingly. "You're not poor, are you Eames?"

The other man flinched. "I get by." He looked embarrassed, and lowered his eyes to his own plate, upon which the food sat untouched. Arthur, scenting weakness, seized his advantage.

"No, Eames," Arthur said, harshly. "People who have to do three jobs on low wages get by. People who don't know where the next pay check is coming from. People who live in mansions, can afford to buy a wardrobe of designer clothes for strangers they've never met, and serve wine this expensive, do not get by."

Eames fell silent. He took a sip of wine, as though to steady his thoughts. Arthur sank back in his seat, satisfied he'd silenced the other man.

Eames put his glass down, and looked at Arthur, as though his outburst had never happened. "Please eat", he urged. "Please."

Arthur glared down the table, leaving his fork by the plate. "Trying to fatten me up?"

Eames raised an eyebrow. "I'm not going to eat you." There was an edge of anger in his voice that Arthur noticed. He picked up the fork, digging into the meat once again, raising another forkful to his mouth.

Eames watched, taking another sip of wine. Arthur thrust another forkful in. Drank more wine.

Eames took another sip.

A few minutes later, Arthur's fork clattered onto the plate. The slighter man's head slumped forward, as did his upper torso. Eames was on his feet, round to him, kneeling.

"No, I'm not going to eat you," he whispered, running a finger along Arthur's cheekbone. "I need to..." his voice faltered. Sliding one arm along Arthur's back, and the other under his knees, he picked him up from the chair, and turning, left the room.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Eames placed Arthur on the bed, reverentially, as though he were holding a religious artefact. He gently stroked his finger down his cheek.

"I need to undress you," he whispered. "Is that all right?"

No response. The younger man was lost in an inner dreamscape.

Eames carefully began to slide the suit jacket off Arthur's shoulders, careful to pull it from under him. He laid it aside, and then began to unbutton his vest. he spread it to the sides, and then loosened and pulled off the silk tie.

He removed both items from the bed.

Eames' fingers moved to the shirt, and started to unbutton. As he opened it, he looked at the sculpted torso, the ivory skin. He reached out, and with his fingers, began to trace down his chest.

"Beautiful," he whispered. "You are so beautiful."

_But I didn't doubt you would be. _

_I want something pretty to look at. Something that I can simply gaze at for as long as I wish._

Swallowing, he moved to Arthur's waist. The belt was unbuckled, and pulled loose. He carefully unfastened the flies, and began to gently tug at trousers.

Long, lean legs appeared. Eames swallowed as he saw that they ended in black silk boxers. He swallowed, and then peeled back the covers. Carefully, reverentially, he laid it over Arthur.

Unable to resist, he leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.

"Sweet dreams", he whispered.

* * *

Cobb took a sip of scotch. Ariadne was asleep, lying on the bed. He'd decided to stay up a few hours longer, trying to quell his thoughts.

He looked over at the young woman. Thoughts were churning in his mind, nibbling like hungry fish. He took another sip of scotch.

He was beginning to think clearly about who could have taken Arthur. He looked into the glass of amber liquid. Another life, a past life, a secret life, was beginning to flood back.

He remembered, clearly. Sitting down, facing the other man.

_"So, we take people's thoughts?"_

_"No, not exactly. In a dream state, you're more vulnerable. Your mind is more open to theft."_

_"Right. So you can take ideas?"_

_"Ideas, secrets-"_

_"Memories?"_

_"Possibly."_

_"Ever tried it?"_

_"No."_

_He'd looked at him, intently. "What about...implanting ideas?"_

_"You could try - you'd have to go deep."_

Cobb took a swallow of scotch. The thought that was forming was too unpleasant, too unsettling, for him to want to think about it.

* * *

Arthur stirred, and murmured. Eames got up, and began to leave the room.

_I want to look at you whilst you sleep. _

_I want to lie next to you._

_Want to cradle you in my arms. _

_Remind you that only one person in your world exists. Me. _

* * *

Arthur's eyes flickered open. He felt tired, and also slightly numb. He winced - his neck was stiff, clearly the result of sleeping in one position for too long.

Sitting up, he tried to take in his surroundings.

The room was luxurious - he had slept in the four poster, and the furniture was tasteful, antique. He felt the brush of fabric against his skin, and his eyes widening, realised he was naked, save for a pair of boxer shorts.

"Eames," he muttered, furiously. He was stripping him, taking away everything he valued.

His job.

His friends.

His dignity.

His life.

He shook his head. He needed to get up, confront the man who had decided to abduct him. He pushed himself off the bed, and headed for the bathroom. As he turned the shower knob, warm steaming rain splashed into his face. Getting in, he noticed the towels. Thick, luxurious towels, that he could wrap himself in.

Luxury. It was almost as though Eames wanted to spoil him, pamper him, like a precious pet. Or a favourite toy.

He shuddered.

Drying, he got out, and headed back into the bedroom. He looked round the room. Eames had clearly decided that the room was only to fit the functions of sleeping and grooming. No books, no electronic equipment. He looked round, realising the clothes he'd been abducted in had gone.

_My BlackBerry!_

Arthur sank on the bed, burying his face in his hands. He felt completely alone, isolated. Cut off. Unable to stop himself, he dissolved into wracking sobs.

The door nudged open. Eames stood there, watching him. His face twisted with compassion, he softly shut the door.

Too late. Arthur heard the click, and got up. Furious, he flew at the door, and finding it locked, began hammering on the door.

"Eames!" Arthur screamed. "Eames, let me out, you son of a bitch! Let me out! You can't keep me here! I'm not your property! My friends will be looking for me! They'll find you! They'll find you, and arrest you! Let me go! LET ME OUT!"

No response.

Arthur slid down the back off the door, not caring that he was practically naked. He felt sobs shudder through his body. "Please let me go," he whimpered, "please. I want to go home."

Eames leaned against the door, listening to the younger man's sobbing. He felt pity twist his heart, and swallowing, walked away.

_I can't let you go. You're what I want, what I need. You have the perfect face, perfect body...all I need to do is make you forget that anyone else exists, and make you realise that I'm the only one you'll ever love._

* * *

Ariadne stirred. Cobb went into her, holding a mug of coffee. "Here you go," he said, gently.

"Thank you," she said, taking the mug, and sipping at it gratefully. She looked at him. "Any word?"

Cobb shook his head. "No, nothing." He sat on the edge of the bed. Ariadne looked at him.

"Who would want to take Arthur?" she said, finally. "I mean, he's the sweetest-" she broke off, tears threatening to fall.

Cobb shifted uncomfortably. "No idea." He took a swallow of coffee, hoping Ariadne wouldn't see the lie behind his words.

_You would do this, wouldn't you? You're arrogant enough, and wealthy enough, to think you can buy yourself anything. _

Cobb took another swallow of coffee. _But please let me be suspicous for no reason. Please let this be something simple._

* * *

_Please stop crying. I don't want you to cry. _

_I want to hold you close, like a little kitten, give you the love that you deserve._

_At the moment, you hate me._

_You will love me._

_You will love ME, Arthur._

_I promise. _

_You'll be my perfect little doll. _

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur lay back against the door. His eyes felt raw, and sore, from crying. His chest ached. He also realised, with a dull shock, that his skin was cold, and naked. All he was wearing was the towel that he'd wrapped himself in, before noticing Eames' prying eyes.

He choked. No way out. He was trapped.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock on the door. He froze, pulling the towel around himself, protectively. Waited. After a few minutes, he heard footsteps retreating.

Arthur cautiously opened the door. Lowering his eyes, he noticed a tray. With dishes. Covered with a lid. He lifted it. Underneath the lid was a meal. Breakfast.

Pancakes. His favourite. Conscious of his health, Arthur usually ate very lightly in the morning, but pancakes...a special treat, a guilty pleasure to enjoy at weekends and on holidays. He noticed they were blueberry pancakes. With maple syrup.

He felt himself salivating. Pancakes...

Then he slammed the lid down, and using his foot, gave the tray an angry shove. He wasn't going to eat them. Who knows what Eames had put in them? Glaring at the mess that had formed on the other side of the corridor, he pulled his legs in, and slammed the door.

Getting up, he laid on the bed. Nothing else to do.

* * *

"Did Mr Ogilvie have any enemies?"

Cobb blinked. Sitting opposite the pleasant, but firm voiced young policewoman was unnerving. He swallowed.

"Not that I know of," he answered, truthfully. She nodded and her partner noted it down.

"Did he say if he was going out of town?"

Cobb shook his head. "No."

"Did you arrange to see him at some point?"

Cobb nodded. "Yes. My girlfriend and I-" he swallowed - "had arranged to see a movie with him. That evening."

"The evening he disappeared?"

"Yes."

"I see."

Cobb felt himself poised. He swallowed again. "What are you going to do?"

She looked at him. "Excuse me?"

Cobb took a deep breath. "One of my best friends - who is also an employee of mine - is missing. He's been gone for two days."

"Mr Cobb-" she took a deep breath herself - "Mr Ogilvie is thirty years old. He is under no obligation to inform anyone of his whereabouts."

Cobb looked at her. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that we will file his data, but as he isn't a minor, he is not a priority case." She smiled tightly. "I'm sorry Mr Cobb."

* * *

_I'm sorry you don't want to eat. _

_You will do soon. _

_Trust me. _

* * *

Arthur blinked. The light in the room was hazy. Mid afternoon. He turned over, looking at the window.

Another soft tapping at the door. Swallowing, he ignored it.

After a few seconds, he heard the footsteps leaving. Feeling curious despite himself, he got up, and opened the door.

Another tray. With a dish on it. He lifted the lid.

He blinked. Salad. Chicken salad. What he usually ate for lunch.

Arthur felt a shudder of revulsion. Eames knew his tastes - what he liked to eat, what his favourites were, the foods he ate on a regular basis.

Who was Eames? How did he know of him? How had he even found him? Arthur began mentally running through names of people he knew. School, college, work...Eames was not a name he was familiar with. Feeling an overwhelming surge of anger, he picked up the tray, and threw it at the far wall. Watching the plate smash and the food disintegrate gave him a feeling of spiteful pleasure.

Slamming the door again, he went back to the bed. Curling up, he began to mentally rehearse everything he would say to Eames when he saw him again.

* * *

"Did the police say anything?" Ariadne persisted. Cobb was sitting across from her, numbly stirring his coffee.

"Hmm?" He blinked, and looked at his hands. "No. Not really."

"I still can't believe this," Ariadne said, her tone bewildered. "Who would take Arthur?"

Cobb picked up his cup, hoping she wouldn't see the burning flush developing along his cheeks. He had an idea of who had taken Arthur. A conversation flashed into his memory.

_"You could create the perfect companion with this."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Well, someone who would love you, and only you. Someone who wouldn't remember who else loved them-"_

_"That's unethical. This is for business, not pleasure."_

_"If you say so."_

Cobb took a swallow of Coffee. Ariadne looked at him, nervously.

"I'm sure he'll-" she stopped, suddenly uncertain.

"Sure of what?"

"He'll come back."

Cobb took a deep breath. "I hope so."

* * *

Arthur heard another tap on the door. He got up, and cautiously pried the door open.

A note.

_Please come down for dinner. Dress appropriately. E._

Glaring at it, Arthur proceeded to the closet. Determined to make an impression, he choose a black suit, which accentuated his features. After gelling his hair back, he smiled at himself in the mirror.

He made his way downstairs.

To his shock, Eames was already sitting, waiting for him. In the dining room. Arthur swallowed, and made his way to his seat.

"I hope you like steak," Eames said, smiling. Arthur blinked. Steak...he adored it. Much to the disgust of Ariadne, who was virtually a vegetarian.

Arthur nodded. "I do."

"Good." Eames leaned back, and smiled again. "Do begin."

Arthur pulled the lid off the dish, and noted the steak, decorated with a rich sauce. As he cut into his food, he noticed Eames wasn't eating.

"Aren't you-" he gestured with his fork. The older man smiled.

"Please eat."

"So you can drug me again?" he challenged. Eames blushed slightly.

"Arthur... I don't want to hurt you," Eames said, hesitantly. "But I don't want you to hurt yourself, by starving yourself. Please."

"Scared you'll snap me?" Arthur challenged again. He leaned back with a satisfied smirk as he saw Eames' colour rise.

"No." Eames smiled at him. "Trust me. Eat."

Arthur glared at him again, but ate another mouthful. It was good, he noted - melted on his tongue.

Suddenly, his fork clattered to the floor. Eames swallowed.

"You're ready," he whispered, "for me to go inside your mind."

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Eames carefully rolled up the sleeve around Arthur's corded forearm. Swallowing, he pulled the IV out of the PASIV, and proceeded to attach it to the younger man's arm. He then proceeded to attach another IV to his own arm. He then carefully seated himself on a leather recliner, next to Arthur's.

"Sweet dreams," he whispered, and pressed the button in the centre.

* * *

Cobb bit his lip. Ariadne was in the shower, exhausted after a night of no sleep. Saito had urged them both to take a few days off, to deal with the police, and also Arthur's family. Cobb knew that contacting them would fall to him.

He got up, and rummaging in the refrigerator, started pulling out vegetables. He searched in a drawer for a knife, and viciously stabbed it into a head of brocoli.

"Where have you taken Arthur?" he mumbled furiously to the mute vegetable. "What have you done with him?"

He clutched the sides of the counter. A sense that he not only knew, but was also responsible, for the disappearance of his colleague and friend was causing his guts to twist painfully.

"Eames," he hissed, as though the broccoli could talk back. "Eames."

* * *

Eames was walking. Walking through a seemingly endless corridor, bathed in artificial light. He paused, listening to ghostly murmers, the clicking of keys, the drone of printers.

An office. Feeling his flesh crawl with revulsion at the mundanity, the pointlessness of the place, he continued to walk.

Suddenly, he heard a voice.

"Well, I can get that done for you, but it might take...ok, yes, I'll do it straight away."

Arthur's voice. Eames hid behind a pillar, and waited.

A few seconds later, Arthur walked out, holding a sheaf of papers. He looked tense, and tired. Eames felt himself yearning after the slender figure. He swallowed, and waited.

"Arthur!" Another voice appeared. Eames found himself stiffening slightly. He knew that voice.

"Arthur, you still haven't done my report!"

"Cobb, I'm sorry, but I've been snowed under!"

"Well, ok, but no excuses! Just get it done!"

Arthur nodded, his expression strained. "OK, Cobb."

Cobb nodded, his facial expression irritated. "Just make sure you do it."

Eames felt himself glowering. Here, in Arthur's subconscious, he was finding a lonely young man, isolated in this high rise prison, with his arrogant co-workers.

He smiled. Arthur was alone. Isolated at work, no seeming life outside of it...it was just perfect. He needed Eames. Needed him to make him full, happy, contented.

"I love you," he whispered, from behind the pillar.

Arthur blinked, and looked round. "What?"

Eames turned, and began to walk away, down the corridor. He suddenly felt the ground starting to shake, and smiled. "Time to go."

* * *

Ariadne sat opposite Cobb, pushing at her food. He swallowed.

"Ari, listen," he said, hesitantly. He picked up his water glass. She looked at him. "What is it?"

"I think-" he spoke carefully, "I know the person who took Arthur."

Ariadne's fork clattered onto the plate. She looked at him. "What?"

"I think I know who took Arthur," Cobb repeated. He took a swallow of water, to compensate for his suddenly dry throat. "In fact, I'm sure I do."

She looked at him. "You know? You knew this would happen?"

"No, I didn't know it would happen," he said quickly, "but-" he paused, and took a deep breath. "Ari, there are things about me that you need to know. I haven't always been a corporate pen pusher."

She swallowed. "What were you before?"

He looked up, hardly daring to meet her eyes. "I was an extractor. Of people's ideas."

* * *

Arthur woke up. He was back, lying on the bed, fully clothed. Blinking, he sat up, noticing how dark the room was.

To his shock, he'd been stripped. His suit had gone, and he was only wearing his black silk boxers. Feeling a desperate urge to hide, he got under the heavy sheets, curling up. Feeling vulnerable, he curled his arms around his body, and closed his eyes.

Suddenly, they flew open. Strong, large hands were curling round him, pulling him close. Hot breath was on his neck. Suddenly, a voice was heard.

"I want you. Now."

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur blinked, frozen as the larger body started to press up against him. With a sense of shock, he realised just how large Eames was. A solid torso was moving behind his back, whilst hands encircled his waist and began pulling him closer.

"Come here. Please."

Arthur felt his hand immediately move to the wrist holding him close, and began to try and prise it off him. "Leave me alone. Please."

His mimicry of the word hung heavily in the silence. Arthur waited, expecting Eames to leave.

Fingers began to trace down his back.

"Please, Arthur." Eames' voice was filled with longing, tinged with apprehension. "Please let me stay here, with you."

"Get off me."

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"You already have." Arthur's voice was filled with bitterness. "You've taken me away from my life. My friends, my family, my work-"

"You don't have any friends."

"What?" Arthur was momentarily stunned into silence.

"You don't have any friends." Eames' voice was quiet, with a sad tinge. "You have your work colleagues, who you see out of work sometimes, but you don't really have any friends."

Arthur, shocked, didn't respond.

"You don't have anything to do with your family. You don't call them; you don't visit. Because you left them behind. You left them behind in a quiet town in Conneticut, in search of the big city."

Arthur opened his mouth. His mind was racing. "Ea-"

"You're lonely, Arthur." Eames' voice was regretful. "You're such a beautiful young man, with his whole life ahead of him, and yet you're spending it alone. But it can better. Spend it here, with me. I'll never leave you, I'll never let you go-"

Eames stopped, abruptly. Arthur had raised his other arm, and slammed it backwards into Eames' jaw, causing the other man to grasp. Satisfied that his defences were down, he kicked, viciously, and made to get out of the bed.

He swung his legs out, and was about to put his feet on the floor, when suddenly, another hand snaked around his waist. Feeling a surge of spite, Arthur slapped down, hard. Pushing away from Eames, he hurried to the door, thankfully discovering that it was unlocked. Pulling, he began to run into the hallway.

* * *

"You were an extractor?"

Ariadne heard her voice, and shuddered. She sounded weak, and girlish. She swallowed, waiting for Dom to speak. He was rubbing his face.

They had settled in the lounge, him holding a large scotch, her a glass of wine. Both were unable to look at the other. Dom opened his mouth to speak.

"It was a few years ago," he said, quietly. "I fell into it by accident. Mal-" a spasm of pain crossed his face, and she immediately felt guilty. Mal was his former wife, who had died three years previously. She was the first woman he'd even considered dating after such a loss, and she often wondered how she had been so lucky to penetrate the heart of such a thoughtful, caring man.

Maybe she hadn't. He'd put the glass on the table, and began to speak. His eyes did not meet hers.

"Mal's father, Miles, was a "dream architect," he explained. "He taught me how to design the landscape of a dream, and how to navigate it in someone's mind. When you're in someone's mind like that, you can steal their thoughts. Or, try and implant them."

Ariadne swallowed. "But what does this have to do with Arthur? Does he know?"

"No," Dom said, quietly. "He doesn't. There are only two people who know about my work in extraction, aside now from you. One is Miles. The other is the Forger I worked with, a British man. Who I haven't seen for close to five years."

"A forger?"

"He can adopt the appearance of other people, when in the dream," Cobb explained. "He was exceptionally good at it."

"Why haven't you had contact?"

"He was a wild card. Too lazy, too prone to self-indulgence." He swallowed, remembering a conversation he and Eames had had at one point.

* * *

"I'd love to find someone to love," Eames commented. They were sitting on a balcony, in Mombasa. Celebrating the end of a job. Cobb raised his eyebrows and studied Eames carefully, raising his bottle of beer to his lips.

"Really?"

"Yes." Eames stretched his legs out, and smiled. "Someone to love, someone to care for. Someone who would love me, and only me."

Cobb raised his eyebrows. "It doesn't work like that, trust me."

"Yes it could," Eames insisted. "What if you used this-" he gestured towards the PASIV, shut in a gleaming steel case by Dom's feet - "to pull out all their memories of others?"

Cobb almost choked. "It would be a selfish, cruel thing to do."

Eames raised an eyebrow. "But what if they had no-one to miss them?"

Cobb shook his head. "Stop it. Everyone has someone to miss them. Someone else to love them."

"Well," Eames commented, raising his own beer to his lips, "now there's a thing."

**Reviews always appreciated. Thank you!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur ran down the corridor, his heart pounding. He knew that Eames would follow him; he had to try and get away. Finding the stairs, he took them two at a time, and found himself, once again, in the cavernous entrance hall.

"The front door," he muttered to himself, desperately. "The front door!"

* * *

"What was the name of the Forger?"

Cobb swallowed. He was clutching his scotch glass with such force that Ariadne thought it could shatter. "I don't know if-" his voice trailed off. He shook his head. "Let's forget it."

He got up. Ariadne looked at him, fear and anger mounting in her face. She grabbed hold of his arm, with such force that the older man was momentarily stunned.

"Ari, I- what?"

"You can't just leave it like this!" She said, anger harshening her voice. "You know who has Arthur! You can't just leave it! You have to tell the Police!"

Cobb swallowed, and walked into the kitchen. Slowly, with care, he placed the empty glass into the sink. He then turned to the petite woman, trying to keep his face composed.

"Ariadne, its not that simple." His eyes locked with hers. "What I did - its not strictly speaking legal. We're talking corporate espionage. If I go to the Police over Arthur, I could end up going to jail."

"So you're going to save your own neck, and Arthur be damned?" Her voice was starting to quaver, dangerously. "I can't believe you'd do that!"

Dom swallowed. "Its not that simple!" He looked at her. "I'm not saying we should abandon Arthur!"

"But you know who it is, don't you!"

Dom sighed, heavily, and rubbed his forehead. "Yes," he said, simply. "I think I do."

She blinked. "Well, lets try and find them!"

He shook her head. "No. Its not that easy. This isn't like an episode of _Scooby-Do._" She blinked, the words stinging, implying that she was an impulsive child. "This man - is dangerous. And I have a suspicion that he won't hurt Arthur. But if he feels threatened-"

He looked at her. Realisation was beginning to dawn on her face. "Won't hurt him? What do you-"

"He wanted to use what we could do to create the perfect doll." Cobb walked over to the liquor cabinet, opened it, and poured himself another scotch, into a fresh glass. He waved the bottle at her. "Anything?"

She swallowed. "Vodka, please. With tonic."

Dom complied, the liquid splashing into the glass. He stirred it, and handed it to her. "Here."

"The perfect doll," she shuddered. "It sounds like a horror movie."

Cobb raised an eyebrow, and took a sip of scotch. "It does. But for him, its motivated out of love. The desire to create someone completely devoted to him. Totally in love. Faithful, compliant."

She took a swallow of vodka. "But surely its-"

"Abuse." Dom finished, the words hanging heavily in the air between them. "Of course. But he doesn't see that. He sees it as giving someone all the love they want."

Ariadne noticed that her hand was shaking. She put the glass on the table. "But - how does he find them?"

"He doesn't find them. He only ever wanted one." He shivered, remembering fragments of conversations.

* * *

"You can't just-" Cobb swallowed, and looked at Eames, his eyes slightly hard. "You can't just erase someone's memories, Eames. You're destroying the fabric of who they are!"

"I'm not!" Eames argued, his tone stubborn. "I'm giving them a better life!"

Cobb arched an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes, really." Eames grabbed his beer bottle, and took another swig. Cobb frowned, his brows lowering. "Explain to me, Eames. Please."

Eames lounged back in the chair, and smiled. "Imagine. You're one of these poor souls, who has no life. Only a job. No real friends, no family. You're lonely. You won't admit it, even to yourself. You're just waiting, drifting through life. And then, someone comes and makes you the centre of their world, of their life. Wouldn't you jump at the chance for that?"

Cobb swallowed. Mal had been the centre of his life - until she was taken from him so cruelly. "Eames," he said, his voice becoming gentler, "its not a good idea. You're making someone the centre of your life - if they go-"

"But thats it, Dom," Eames said, his words forceful, urgent. "They won't go. They'll stay. Always stay."

* * *

Arthur walked down the corridor. Swallowing, he reached for a door handle, and pulled it. A cupboard. Without thinking, he stepped inside, and pulled the door closed.

He tried to steady his breathing. Feeling vulnerable, he curled up, hugging his knees. He blinked ; he refused to give in and cry.

Footsteps.

"Arthur," came Eames' soft voice. "Arthur, please...I'm not going to hurt you."

Arthur closed his eyes. He was sick of hearing Eames repeat that line, mindlessly, like a parrot. He was hurting him. He felt isolated, alone, while the rest of the world steamed on without him. He gritted his teeth.

"Let me go."

A sigh. "Arthur - I can't do that. Think about it - here, you'll be loved, wanted, desired. Can you honestly say you got that outside?"

Arthur blinked, the words stinging. No, he had not. He swallowed, trying to think of another answer.

"But what makes you think you can love me?" the words were a challenge.

Eames chuckled, softly. "Darling, I adore you. Everything about you. The way you have everything meticulously lined up on your desk, the way you always order the same type of coffee - skinny cappuccino, isn't it? - the way you have to religously run three miles every day. I find you controlled, compulsive. Someone who puts effort into everything he does."

Arthur, shocked, couldn't answer. Eames had just described his habits, the little rituals he cherished.

"How, how do you-" he couldn't finish the question.

"Know everything about you?" Eames' voice was dry, amused. "I saw when I visited your office that time. I saw when I stayed outside your apartment. I saw when I sat opposite you in Starbucks. I know everything about you Arthur. But there's one thing I don't know - and thats how you'll respond to me when you're finally in my bed."

Arthur felt stunned.

"Now, are you going to come out of there-" Eames' vocie held an undercurrent of faint menace - "or am I going to have to pull you out?"

Swallowing, Arthur creaked the door open. He stepped outside, blinking.

Eames smiled, and reaching out with one hand, gently traced it down Arthur's cheek. The younger man tried not to shudder.

"Good boy," he said, gently. "I don't want to hurt you. And trust me, you're a priceless object."

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! **


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur shivered as Eames led him back up the stairs. He felt vulnerable, small. Eames, as if noticing, slipped his arm around his back. Gently applying pressure, he began to rub. Arthur stiffened, and then began to relax.

"Sshhh," Eames said, gently. "Sssh." He guided Arthur upstairs, to the bedroom, carefully shutting the door behind them.

* * *

Cobb turned over. Ariadne was lying with her back to him. He reached out, and began to stroke her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. Stung, he withdrew his hand abruptly.

"Ari, please." His voice was soft, pleading. "Ari...you can't just ignore me."

"The way you're going to ignore Arthur?" her tone was bitter, cutting. Frustrated, and angry, Dom turned onto his back. He swallowed, trying to marshall his thoughts.

"I'm not ignoring Arthur," he said, trying to remain calm. "I just don't know what-"

"Yes, you do." Her tone was sharp, scything through the darkness. "You know what you need to do. You just pick up the phone and call-"

"Ari, if I do that-"

"If you don't, Arthur might end up dead." Her tone was flat, lifeless. "Then how will you feel?"

No response. Closing her eyes, she tried to sleep. Dom lay awake, his eyes staring into the darkness.

* * *

"Get on the bed."

Arthur did so. He had decided that his quickest route to safety would be to be completely compliant, to do everything Eames wanted. He sat on the bed, turning his eyes upwards to meet Eames'.

Eames caught his chin in his hand. He was taken by Arthur's eyes - large and molten brown, changing in the light to honey, to hazel, to dark liquid gold.

_I fell in love when I saw those eyes. Those beautiful, beautiful eyes. Those beautiful eyes that seem to have known hurt, betrayal. I won't ever betray you. I will only love you. No-one else will ever touch you again. _

"I'm going to blindfold you." Eames' tone was gentle. "Hold still."

Arthur nodded. He sat, waiting, as the cloth was carefully wound around his head, blocking out any trace of light. He swallowed, and felt the older man run his fingers down his chest.

"You're beautiful."

Arthur felt himself freeze slightly.

"You're so beautiful, Arthur. So lovely."

Arthur swallowed, finding his voice.

"Am I? My arms are thin, my waist is too narrow, I can never hold anyone and make them feel safe-"

"I'll make you feel safe." Eames' voice was low, hypnotic, accompanied by the gentle stroking of Arthur's cheek. "You don't need to make me feel safe, Arthur. All you need to do is love me."

"I don't even know you," Arthur almost snapped out. Then he cringed. Eames merely continued stroking his face.

"But you will know me Arthur. And I will know you. I will know you better than any former girlfriend, former boyfriend, your therapist. Better than anyone." He continued to stroke his face. "Do your friends know you?"

Arthur swallowed. "I...guess so."

"No, think Arthur. Think for me. Do your friends really know you? Do they know how you cry at night sometimes, because you feel so lonely? Do they know how angry you feel when you get asked to do more and more at work? Do they know how you worry about your appearance, worried because you don't have a large, muscular physique - like all the so called real men?"

Arthur fell silent, stunned. Eames had just carefully listed his inner fears. He did cry when he came home, both from exhaustion and from misery that he had no-one to return to. He did feel anger bubble up inside him when Cobb asked him to do one more little thing. He did feel pangs of jealousy when he saw men, other men, at the gym. Hurt and anger came bubbling up, the hurt and anger that he tried to conceal under his calm, collected, three piece suited exterior. Except he could not form the words. Eames leaned forward, and began to caress Arthur's neck, his full lips sliding gracefully over the taut skin.

"Let me in, Arthur," he whispered. "Let me in."

Stiffening, Arthur began to slide across the bed. He turned onto his stomach, seemingly ready to spread his legs. Eames leaned forward, and began to cover his back with kisses. Gentle, light kisses, and the younger man could not help but respond to his touch.

"Arthur," Eames breathed, leaning down, and kissing his shoulder. "Arthur, I want you. I want to take you. But there is something I want thats more precious than what you're offering. Much more. And I will have it. I promise. But not tonight."

Arthur felt himself freezing. _What do you want? _he cried in his mind. Feeling a sudden wave of terror, he pulled away from the older man's touch, leaving Eames' fingers dangling in mid air. Curling up, he listened, and heard the sound of footsteps retreating and the door opening and closing. Pulling the blindfold off, he felt himself shaking and dissolved into frightened tears.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

_I'm sorry I scared you. I didn't mean to. But you're so precious to me. _

_I love you. I love you I love you I love you I love you. And you will love me. Because soon, I will be the only person you will know._

* * *

Arthur woke up. His mouth was dry and he felt deydrated. Shivering, he pulled a robe around him and padded into the bathroom, turning on the tap and filling a glass with water. He downed it in one.

As the water settled, he began to think. He needed to get out. Eames was dangerous, and he feared, slightly insane. He must have been stalking Arthur for literally months. It gave him a cold feeling - how could someone be happy living their life so vicariously through someone else, watching them, studying them, observing them as though they were a botanical study?

He shuddered. Eames was bad news. He needed to get out.

He walked back into the room, and began reaching for clothes to get dressed in. Suddenly, he noticed the huge sash windows. He knew he was a couple of floors up, but with a makeshift rope of towels and sheets...

Arthur finished buttoning his shirt. His mind was made up.

* * *

Dom stared at the ceiling. He swallowed.

Rolling over, he reached for the phone.

* * *

Good quality towels, Arthur observed, as he carefully tied them together. Sheets, as well. Eames was definitely a man with money to burn.

He finished fashioning the rope, estimating it was easily eight feet long. He grabbed the back of the chair, and began to tie the rope around its front legs. Going to the bed, he stripped it of its undersheet, and added it to the rope.

He wedged the top of the chair underneath the window frame. As he jammed it, he prised open the sash window, surprised by how easily it opened. Gathering up the rope, he threw it out of the window, fluttering and twisting like an albatross.

He exhaled, slowly. With a push, he twisted out of the window, and grabbed the top of the rope. Gently, carefully, he began to climb down, his hands holding steady. He knew the rope was dangling at least three feet off the ground, but refused to contemplate it.

Down...down...

He felt stronger and clearer as he descended. If he stayed, he'd become nothing more than a rich man's plaything - pampered, coddled, adored, like a spoiled lap dog. He found the idea distasteful. He valued his independence - it has caused his to leave his home town for a college on the East coast, and shun any long term relationships. He wasn't built for being someone's toy, someone's pet-

Someone's doll.

He paused mid air. The way Eames treated him - buying him expensive clothes, expensive cologne - it felt as though he were a doll to him. Perfect and bloodless. He had no idea how long he'd been in Eames' clutches, but he felt as though his personality had shrunk. That he no longer had tastes or held opinions. He had to get away.

* * *

Dom listened to the ring tone. Suddenly, the phone went dead.

* * *

He was on the ground.

Arthur blinked. He'd done it. Managed to get out. He got to his feet, after collapsing in a haphazard heap. Standing up, he looked around, and nearly choked.

The house - or mansion - was in a forest. Blinking, he could see no sign of roads, cars, or any other trace of civilisation. He swallowed, feeling an odd stir of fear.

He had no cellphone. No internet access. He had no calendar and Eames and taken his wristwatch. He didn't even know how long he'd been locked away. Days? Weeks? Months?

Fear stirred in his stomach; its twin awoke in his mind. He knew he had to go. Swallowing, he began to walk.

* * *

A figure watched him, gazing dispassionately as he walked across the grass.

_Keep going. You're not going to get far. _

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur swallowed. He felt disorienated, and confused. He'd been walking for the best part of a couple of hours, and still no sign of any life. No roads, no cars...he was beginning to feel anxious. Blinking, he stopped, trying to gather his thoughts.

He couldn't be in this situation. He was the one everyone else leaned on, relied on, depended upon. He couldn't be alone, and helpless. Maybe if he went back...but the thought was frightening. He'd be admitting that he had no-one but Eames.

Swallowing, he continued. A creeping damp was rising from the ground, and shivering slightly, he realised it would be dark soon. Wrapping his jacket more tightly around himself, he hurried on.

* * *

Cobb swallowed. The young detective sitting opposite him was pleasant and affable, but he knew there was suspicion in his eyes. He shifted. Ariadne had not spoken to him for a couple of days, and he knew he had to start seeking some outside help.

"When did you last see Mr Ogilvie?" he asked, writing it down.

Cobb swallowed. "A few days ago. We were going to the movies."

"Just you and him?"

"No, my girlfriend, I and him."

The detective raised his eyebrows. "Does Mr Ogilvie often accompany the two of you like this?"

Cobb exhaled, slowly. "Not always. Sometimes."

The detective shrugged. "OK." He looked at Cobb. "Does he have any enemies? Can you think of anyone who would want to harm him?"

Cobb looked at the table. _You have no idea._

* * *

Eames entered the room, and noted the makeshift rope, the chair, and the open window.

He smiled, and walked to the window, gazing out.

_You can run. But you can't hide. _

* * *

"Slender," Eames commented, idly. Cobb looked at him, the beer warming in the sun. "Excuse me?"

"A slender man," Eames repeated, taking another swig of beer. "Slender, frail looking."

Cobb raised an eyebrow. "Any reason?"

"Easier to break." A slightly sinister smile crept across Eames' face, and the Extractor pretended he hadn't noticed. "Easier to bend, and fold." He took another swallow of beer. "Small, and vulnerable."

Cobb shivered. There was an intensity about the British man that was beginning to unnerve him. "You're really thinking this through, arent' you?"

"Of course." Eames looked at him. "My doll. My perfect companion. For me and me alone. He'll always be there, always ready for me to love him, and pamper him. And in return, he'll worship me. So, I need to get the man I really want. Really desire."

Cobb looked at him. "What you're talking about is abduction. Emotional assault. Stripping someone of everything they think they are."

"I know." Eames smiled. "But they'll have me."

* * *

Rain was beginning to fall. Arthur shivered. He felt cold, and was beginning to realise, lost.

He hung his head, starting to despair. Swallowing, he realised he had no choice. He had to go back. Or possibly die of exposure.

He was trapped.

* * *

_You'll come back. I know you will._

_I'll make you so happy. _

_Soon, you'll have no-one in your thoughts but me. Only me. And I'll treat you like a Prince, a God. You'll be mine. And I'll never let you go._

* * *

"OK, Mr Cobb, thats it," the detective concluded. "We'll keep you updated with any developments."

Cobb swallowed, uneasily. "Thank you."

"But if you can think of anyone-" the detective's light green eyes seemed to briefly bore into Cobb's blue ones - "let us know."

* * *

Eames looked out the window. Twilight. Suddenly, he saw a slight figure trudging across the lawn. He blinked.

"Arthur," he muttered, the name a low growl in his throat. To his shock, he saw the other, slighter man sway and begin to collapse.

* * *

Arthur lay in the bed, his skin flushed. Eames ran his fingers down his arm, lightly tracing them. The younger man felt hot to the touch, and he leaned over and gently stroked his hair.

"I think you're sick," Eames told him, concern in his voice. "You've made yourself ill, trying to leave like that."

He leaned forward, his lips almost brushing the other mans'.

"But its fine," he whispered. "I'll take care of you."

**All readers appreciated, and I'd love some reviews, thank you!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Inception does not belong to me. **

_Sleep, my darling. Sleep._

_I'm here. I will take care of you. I promise. _

* * *

Arthur was sitting at his desk, his skin pale. Cobb bustled by. "Arthur? Those reports? Are they ready?"

Arthur coughed. "Cobb, I'm sick. I really think I-"

"Arthur, you can't be sick. I rely on you to do all this." Cobb's tone was sharp. "Now, just get on with it, please."

Arthur nodded. "OK."

Eames stood, and watched. Swallowing, he walked over to Arthur. "You don't have to stay here."

Arthur's eyes widened. "I don't?"

"No, you can stay with me." Eames leaned over the desk. "You can stay with me, and I'll treat you like a Prince. Arthur, I promise I will lov-"

Suddenly, the ground started to shake. As Eames opened his eyes, he noticed the younger man was shivering profusely. Pulling the IV out of his arm, he walked around to the side of the bed. Carefully, tenderly, he wrapped the covers more tightly around him, and laid a hand gently on his chest.

"You're freezing," the older man commented. Without a second thought, he lifted the covers, and put his arms around Arthur, hugging him closer.

* * *

Cobb leaned back in his chair. He was at the office, but work was the last thing he was capable of. Arthur's empty desk was a constant reproach.

He closed his eyes.

"It would be so easy," Eames had commented.

"What would?"

"Extracting. You take away all their memories of others, and just incept the idea they can't live without you."

"Eames." Cobb fixed him with a hard stare. "Just drop it. Its insanity."

Cobb blinked. Eames had taken Arthur. He knew it. And, he realised with a twisting feeling in his gut, that he must have been stalking him for months. Infiltrating. Coming into the office-

He sat bolt upright. Of course he had. He'd been coming in in different guises - as a delivery man, a post worker. Eames was a Forger. He could disguise in dreams, he could also disguise in real life.

Cobb leaned back, a tension headache beginning to throb behind his left eye. He'd let Arthur be taken - and hadn't even noticed.

* * *

Arthur stirred. He had slept for nearly twenty hours - a way of letting the fever burn itself out. Eames leaned over, and gently pulled back the covers. Lifting a sodden sponge, he squeezed out the excess water, and began to dab it at Arthur's chest.

Arthur's eyelids fluttered. Eames carefully sponged his face.

"Feel better?" the older man didn't expect an answer, but a slight nodding movement from Arthur made him realise that he was more sentient than he realised. He wiped his hands. "There."

Smiling, he pulled out the IV, and reattached it again to Arthur's arm. Attaching his own, he lay back, and closed his eyes.

* * *

Eames blinked. He was in an apartment. Clean, modern, sparsely furnished. Arthur's. He heard some clattering sounds from the kitchen, and went to investigate. Arthur was standing in front of the refrigerator.

Eames blinked. There was nothing in it, except for a bag of wilted lettuce leaves and some bottled water. Sighing, Arthur pulled both items out, and put them on the counter.

"You need to eat some decent food." Eames spoke firmly.

Arthur blinked. "I do," he said, tonelessly.

"When you're with me, you won't be allowed to miss meals, or eat badly." Eames walked behind him, and locked his arms around his waist. "You'll be taken care of, I promise."

Arthur nodded. "Thank you."

"You'll be my only concern, only worry." Eames squeezed his waist, hard. "You'll be the centre of my world."

Arthur nodded again. "Yes."

"You'll be mine. All mine." Eames laid his face into Arthur's hair, inhaling the scent. "You won't need anyone else. You don't have any friends to miss."

Arthur blinked. "I-"

"You don't have any friends," Eames repeated, slightly aggressively. "Repeat it."

"I don't have any friends." Arthur's voice was quiet.

"I only need Eames. Repeat it."

"I only need Ea-"

The ground was shaking, and again, the Forger opened his eyes. He smiled. Arthur was still asleep in the bed, his fevered flush fading. Eames removed the IV from his arm, and the younger man's. He leaned over the bed.

"Soon, darling," he whispered. Kissing his forehead, he turned and left the room.

**Reviews always appreciated. Thank you!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Carefully, Eames adjusted Arthur's pillows, and felt his cheek with the back of his hand.

"You still have a slight temperature," he murmured. Picking up the cloth, he wrung the excess water out of it, before applying it to Arthur's forehead and cheeks. The younger man murmured slightly, shifting. Eames dabbed at his face, careful not to apply too much pressure. The younger man seemed to settle, his expression becoming more neutral.

"There. All finished." Eames' voice was soft, caressing. "Sleep. I'll be back soon."

He turned, and left.

* * *

Cobb was in the office, and hurried downstairs to the ICT security room. He coughed, causing the on duty guard to look up. "Yes?"

"Can I see some CCTV, please?"

The guard frowned. "Why?"

Cobb took a deep breath. "I just need to."

The guard frowned. "Well, I'll have to run it past my boss-"

"I'll pay you," Cobb said, tersely. "I'll pay you up to $200. Just let me say those tapes!"

The guard blinked. Cobb's tone was sharper than he intended, and he felt himself redden. The guard nodded.

"OK. For $200, they're yours."

* * *

Arthur stirred, his eyelids fluttering. Swallowing, he realised his throat felt dry. He turned.

No-one was by the bed.

He stretched, noticing how his muscles ached. He tried to sit up, and felt his back tense up. He swung his legs round to the side of the bed, and cautiously put his feet on the floor.

"Out," he mumbled, his voice sounding cracked. "I need to get out."

He pushed himself off the bed, not noticing that he was stripped to his boxers. Taking a few shaky steps, he managed to get to the door. He put his hand on the doorknob, and twisted it. He pulled the door, and stumbled out.

As he did, he practically fell into Eames' arms.

"Oh, Arthur!" the older man sounded shocked. "Oh, Arthur, what are you doing? You're in no fit state to be out of bed! Come on, lets get you back in there!"

Without realising, Arthur was scooped up in Eames' arms, and within minutes, found himself back in the bed. The older man pulled the covers up.

"You mustn't be out of bed," Eames said, his tone almost scolding. "You must'nt! I can't let you get away!"

Arthur blinked. The words had sounded like a threat. He suddenly found a swirl of memories coming back, reminding him where he was. He looked at Eames, fear suddenly creeping across his face.

"Oh, darling!" Eames said, his voice suddenly sounding hurt. "Don't look at me like that! You know how much I love you! You know that I'm the olny one who loves you, cares about you!"

"But, I-" Arthur felt weak, exhausted. He looked at Eames again, his thoughts a fragmented jumble. He began to think desperately searching in his mind for something to prove the other man wrong.

"Now," Eames said, gently brushing Arthur's cheek. "I'll get you something to eat." He cocked his head, looking at him. "I like slender men, but I draw the line at waifs!"

He chuckled, and headed for the door. Arthur, his head swimming, leaned back on the pillows.

* * *

"What are you doing?"

Cobb blinked. Ariadne's voice penetrated his consciousness. He was intently studying the CCTV footage inside the office. "Looking for clues."

She bit her lip. "Dom, Arthur was taken outside his apartment. So-"

"But this guy had been watching him for months," Cobb interrupted. "I'm wondering if he came into the Office at all. If anyone saw him."

She looked at him, a frown forming between her eyebrows. "Dom, do you think this is a good idea?"

"What do you mean?" His tone was irritated.

"I mean a good idea not to turn it over to the Police."

Cobb looked at her. "If I do that, the truth will come out about my Extractions. I could go to jail." He looked at her. "You want that?"

"No!" Ariadne was shocked. "But...Arthur!"

Cobb turned away. "Yes," he muttered. "I know."

* * *

Arthur blinked. Eames was settling down next to him. Holding a bowl, with a spoon. Arthur watched as the older man carefully scooped up the thick, viscous looking liquid.

"Here," he said, almost as though he were addressing a child. "Open up!"

Arthur did so, allowing the metal and hot liquid to be tipped into his mouth. He swallowed. Eames smiled, and scooped up another.

"And..."

Arthur swallowed again.

"And a third..."

Arthur let the spoon tip the soup into his mouth. Eames withdrew the spoon. Suddenly, the older man yelped with pain and surprise, as Arthur spat the liquid back at him, splattering his face. He wiped at it, trying to get the soup off his skin before it burned. Arthur immediately lashed out, sending the bowl flying, the liquid staining the carpet.

Suddenly, he was pushed back. Eames had reached out a hand, and shoved him. Hard. The younger man fell backwards onto the bed, gasping. The older man carefully finished wiping his face, and stood up.

"Well, it seems you don't want to play correctly," he said, his tone glacial. "I see. I shall leave you until you're in a better frame of mind." He got up, leaving the visibly shaken Arthur on the bed.

"Oh," Eames said, turning back. "Just remember. You don't have anyone else. No-one else knows you're here. You might find yourself regretting what you just did." He looked at Arthur. "I'm the only person who loves you, Arthur, and you treat me like this!"

He left, shutting the door behind him. Arthur closed his eyes, hoping to wake up from this nightmare.

**Thank you for reading - please leave a review!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

_You've hurt me. You've upset me._

_You need to learn you do not upset me._

_You need to learn it now._

* * *

Arthur blinked, and sat up. He'd fallen asleep, on the bed. Shivering slightly, he wrapped himself in the duvet, and walked, slightly unsteadily, to the door.

Locked.

He blinked. He wasn't surprised - Eames wanted to cage him. He knew that eventually, he'd come back. Trudging back across the room, he crawled back into bed, pulling the covers around him, letting the last of the fever work its way out of his system.

He closed his eyes, and slept.

* * *

_I will make you learn, you ungrateful little brat! _

_You're my doll. You're my doll._

_You need to learn this. _

* * *

Arthur blinked. He could hear the sound of a car engine. Suddenly, a small spurt of hope flared up in his chest.

"Dom?" He whispered. "Ari?"

Police?

He got out of bed, and hurried as quickly as he could to the window. He could hear a low, throaty purring coming from the garage. Suddenly, a silver Porsche roared out, causing dirt to flare up.

Arthur's eyes widened. Eames. It had to be Eames.

He was leaving.

He was leaving him.

Arthur felt a slight tremour of panic. Eames was the only person that he knew lived here. He had never seen any staff, or even heard them. He went back to the door, and grabbed the handle.

Locked. He tried rattling it. It didn't budge.

Arthur felt his heart sink, and his eyes widen. He was alone, in this huge house. Locked in.

* * *

The hours dragged slowly.

There was nothing to keep him amused. No books, no magazines, nothing. Arthur lay on the bed, huddled under the covers, staring at the ceiling. He closed his eyes, and felt tears beginning to prickle underneath them.

He turned to his side.

Did anyone miss him? Did anyone actually care? He looked at his watch, estimating that he'd been gone over a week. Hadn't Dom raised the alarm? Hadn't Ariadne?

Or did they simply think nothing of it?

He blinked, paranoid scenarios beginning to flood into his mind. He could imagine them, in the office, laughing at the water cooler, sharing their private jokes. He could imagine them simply walking past his desk, and handing his work onto somebody else. He could imagine them not notcing, not thinking, not caring.

Eames was right. He didn't have any friends. He had no-one. Except Eames.

And he wasn't here.

* * *

Second Day.

Arthur walked into the bathroom, feeling weak. He voided his bladder, filled a glass with water, and drank it. It assauged his thirst, and also helped quell the knawing pains that were growing in his stomach.

Hunger. Hunger was beginning to take hold.

No food. Except what Eames brought him or invited him down to.

And Eames wasn't here.

Feeling a sense of dread, he went back to the bed.

* * *

Third Day.

Arthur was beginning to feel the acute pangs of hunger. He was beginning to feel nauseous. He got up, walked unsteadily to the bathroom, and drank more water. He then walked back, and climbed into the bed, wrapping himself in the luxurious sheets.

He shivered. The temperature in the room had dropped. He felt cold. Shivering, he tried to burrow down in the bed, and shut out what was happening to him.

* * *

Fourth Day.

Arthur felt a need to urinate, but didn't trust himself to get out of the bed. His muscles felt weak, and sore. He felt that if he tried to get out of the bed, he'd collapse.

He swallowed. He could still lie here.

He blinked. The growing discomfort was beginning to turn into pain. He began to sit up, feeling the ache in his muscles. As he swung himself out of bed, and put his legs down, they began to shake. Suddenly, he found himself falling, and cried out in embarrassment and pain as his bladder emptied itself.

Arthur felt like an animal. Virtually naked, feeling half starved, and weak. He lay on the floor, feeling his own urine soak through his boxers, giving his skin a warmth. He felt his arms shake, and overwhelmed with hunger and exhaustion, began to sob.

* * *

_I'm sorry, darling. I had to leave you for a while._

_I need to make you realise how you depend on me. _

* * *

Arthur opened his eyes. He was embarrassingly aware of the fact that stale urine was permeating the room. He tried to sit up, and found his muscles shaking in his arms.

He slumped. He felt defeated. Broken.

Through a haze, he heard the sound of a car engine.

* * *

_I didn't expect this, Arthur._

_I didn't._

_But I'm not sorry. You needed to learn._

* * *

Arthur was aware that he was being lifted. Being moved.

"Arthur," he heard Eames whisper. "Arthur, can you hear me? Arthur!"

He stirred.

"Oh, Arthur," Eames said, his voice soft, nurturing, almost like a parent to a child. "I will run you a bath. And get you something to eat. I'm back now, darling, and I promise to take care of you. You're the most precious thing to me." He caressed his cheek. "My perfect little doll."

Arthur heard the words, but was too weak to open his mouth to protest. He let Eames carry him into the bathroom, realising dimly that the hunger and exhaustion were slowly being matched by an acute sense of fear.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

_I'm sorry I left you. _

_I will take care of you._

_But you're never going to leave._

_You depend on me. _

* * *

Arthur slumped. He was in the bath, the silky hot water caressing his limbs. He stirred; Eames had poured in a quantity of bath oil, scenting the water and rising steam with jasmine. He swallowed; the heat was making him relax, and adding to his feeling of drowsy exhaustion.

"Ssshhh," Eames said gently, running a sponge over his back. "You're with me, Arthur. You're safe. I promise."

Arthur left his eyes closed, feeling Eames dab at his face. He knew he was naked, buried beneath the soapy bubbles, but was too exhausted to care. He let Eames squeeze the sponge, water running in rivulets between his shoulder blades. The older man reached out, and gently caressed the back of his neck.

"Time to get out," he whispered. With a single lift, he brought Arthur to his feet, and managed to wrap him in a thick towel. Then, with a deft movement, he was scooped up in Eames' arms, and carried through to the bedroom. Like a bride.

Or a toy.

Arthur shivered as a rush of cold air hit his skin upon entering the bedroom. He opened one eye, and noticed that the rug he'd soiled had been removed. He swallowed, opening both eyes. Eames' face was impassive. Was he going to hit him? Hurt him? He felt his muscles starting to coil, and despite the hunger and weakness, knew that if he had to, he would try to get out. He felt himself recoil at Eames' touch, as the older man started to gently rub him dry.

"There," Eames said, tenderly. "Done."

Arthur blinked. He didn't trust himself to speak. Feelings of terror were growing more acute. This man claimed he loved him, wanted him. But he'd taken him from his life, locked him away, then left him. Left him to starve and soil himself. He looked at Eames. The man's soft grey eyes were gentle, kind. Arthur shivered - it was hard to believe, looking at him, that he'd hurt him.

But he was.

"I'll get you some food," Eames said, soothingly, rubbing his legs. Arthur swallowed; despite his hunger, he felt anything Eames fed him would stick in his throat. "I'll be back soon."

He got up, and left, leaving Arthur feeling shaken.

* * *

Cobb scanned the video CCTV. He'd been watching clips for nearly two hours, trying to make sense of Arthur's abduction.

It was the same scene. Arthur leaving his apartment, walking down the steps - then the screen went blank.

With a sinking heart, Cobb realised that the abductor knew where to cut the CCTV.

He rubbed his face. Maybe Ariadne was right. Maybe it was time to go to the Police.

* * *

Eames entered the room, carrying a tray. On it was a bowl of soup. Arthur felt his stomach lurch, remembering what had happened.

The older man set the tray down. Arthur realised, looking closer, that there was a slightly hard look in the man's eyes. He swallowed, feeling his throat constrict. Eames settled down next to him, and dipped his spoon in the liquid. He withdrew it, and began to bring it to Arthur's mouth.

Arthur looked, and hesitantly parted his lips. Eames gently put the spoon in his mouth, and tipped in the soup. Arthur felt the hot liquid fill his mouth, and throat. It felt soothing.

"Good?" Eames asked, a note of gentleness in his voice. The younger man nodded. His stomach was knawing with hunger. Eames lifted another spoonful, and Arthur opened his mouth.

"Like a baby bird," Eames crooned, making Arthur shiver. "But I like it."

_I don't. You leave me, you starve me, I end up relieving myself over the floor-_

"You're so precious to me."

_Why are you doing this? What are you getting out of it? _

"And you're going to be even more so." Eames smiled, and Arthur swore he could see a touch of malice at the edges of the man's smile. "I am going to-" He broke off, pausing to tip in another spoonful of soup. Arthur swallowed, panic rising in his chest. Eames gave him another.

"That's for now. I don't want to make you ill." Eames smiled at him, and leaned over, to kiss Arthur's forehead. He then caressed the younger man's cheek.

"Sweet dreams." He stood up, leaving Arthur feeling dazed.

"But, Eames," he protested, "I'm not feeling-" he stopped, and started to slump as the sedative in the soup started to take effect. Eames smiled, benignly, and pulled the covers over him.

"Oh, yes," he whispered, caressing the now sleeping Arthur's cheek. "You're perfect."

**All reviews appreciated and read, thank you!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Cobb swallowed. His hand inched to his phone. He had to call them. He had to-

He paused. What if they didn't believe him? Accused him of being insane? Accused him of making it up?

_Mr Ogilvie is an adult,_ they'd say. _If he wants to run off with someone, he can. _

"But Arthur wouldn't run off with anyone," Cobb muttered. "He wouldn't."

* * *

Eames opened the door. Arthur was still asleep. A pale shaft of sunlight had edged its way through the drapes, and was playing over his face. The older man stepped forward, surveying his prey. Arthur's cheekbones were accentuated, and the hollowness of his cheeks.

Eames pulled a chair next to the bed. Sitting on it, he began to stroke Arthur's cheek. Slowly, carefully.

"I need to look after you," he murmured. "You're wasting away, and I can't have that. I need you to be mine."

He got up, and left the room, leaving Arthur sleeping. He turned and looked back at him, smiling fondly. Then, as the light played over his face, his features hardened, and he left the room.

* * *

Cobb huddled over his workbench. His phone began to vibrate, and he grabbed it. To his astonishment, it was Arthur's numbed. He flipped open the sleek black phone. "Hello?" He felt a tide of anxiety rising in his chest. "Arthur?"

A pause. Then a low, throaty voice. "Hello, Dom."

"Eames?" Cobb sat bolt upright, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. "Where are you?"

"Does it matter?"

Cobb paused. "Where's Arthur?"

"He's safe."

"Eames." Cobb tried to keep his voice calm. "Don't do this. I know you wanted to create the Perfect Doll for you, but Arthur has friends, he has a life, he has-"

"Oh, don't bother, Dom," Eames said, his voice dissolving into barely concealed laughter. "You're not bothered. If you were, you would have tipped off the police."

_He's right, _ Cobb thought, with a numbing sense of shock.

"You don't care about Arthur," Eames bit out, his words laced with venom. "But I do. And soon, I'll make him realise I'm the only person who cares about him."

Cobb found his voice. "Eames, I-"

The phone went dead.

* * *

After a few minutes he returned, carrying the sleek silver PASIV.

Opening it, he pulled out an IV, and attached it to Arthur's arm. Smiling, he attached another to his own, and relaxed.

"I'll make you realise what Cobb really thinks of you," he murmured. "Sweet dreams."

* * *

Cobb swallowed, unable to believe what he'd just heard. Ariadne came over, her face tensing as she noted his expression.

"What is it?" she asked, tightly.

"I think," Cobb murmured, not daring to meet her eyes, "Arthur's abductor just called me."

Her eyes widened. "You have to tell the Police!"

"I will," he looked at her, her anxious expression looking as if it were going to turn to tears. "I will, but -"

He swallowed. "Its not that simple," he whispered. Her face twisted with disgust.

"You just want to save your own neck," she snapped, turning away.

* * *

Arthur was sitting at his desk, working on a report. He looked up as someone approached. He frowned slightly, then his face began to straighten into a smile.

"Dom!" He exclaimed. "I was beginning to think-"

"What?" Cobb said, his face blank. "You thought what?"

"That you were avoiding me," Arthur said, almost nervously. "I thought you were-"

"I am," Cobb said, his tone glacial. "You're such a whiner, Arthur! Always having to show people how good you are, looking for approval! It gets tedious!"

Arthur blinked. "But, Dom, I-"

"I what? You thought I liked you?" Cobb's tone was almost jeering. "You're only here because I need someone to do the job! I don't like you Arthur, I never did! I just use you!"

Laughing, Cobb turned and walked away, leaving Arthur slumped in his seat, stunned. Around the corner, the blonde man began to morph back into Eames. Smiling, the Forger felt the ground begin to shake, and opening his eyes, turned to look at the noticeably paler, sleeping man.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur slept, the sedative slowly working its way out of his system. Eames looked over, raising his eyebrows as the younger man turned over. He smiled to himself as he carefully arranged the clothes he was laying out on the dresser.

"You will wear these for me," he said, running his hand down the fine fabric. "All of them."

Smiling, he left the room, carefully closing the door.

* * *

Ariadne swallowed. She felt guilty, but her anger was spurring her on. Lifting the phone, she made sure that the door to her small office was closed.

"Hello, is that the police? I'd like to report a missing person. Yes, it is urgent."

* * *

Arthur began to sit up in bed. His eyes widened slightly. Clothes were laid out for him, precisely, perfectly, on the dresser. Blinking, he pushed himself out of the bed. His fever seemed to have dissipated, and as he walked over, his eyes widened.

They were designer suits - well cut, and very expensive. It was a three piece in dark grey laid out, complete with a soft white shirt, and a pale lavender tie. He swallowed, and picked them up. Clearly, he was meant to wear them.

First, he headed into the bathroom. Showered and shaved, he wrapped himself in a towel, and walked towards the clothes.

He began to put them on. The shirt fitted, and the tie knotted easily around his neck. But the trousers - he pulled them on, and realised that they were loose. He swallowed - he felt vulnerable, diminished. He put on the vest, and buttoned it.

He then noticed the bottle of cologne - a distinctly more expensive brand than the one he was used to. Hesitantly, he dabbed it on his neck. A sharp, spicy scent filled the room. He blinked.

Finally, he applied gel to his hair. He looked in the mirror, and realised he felt slightly ridiculous, uncomfortable. He felt as though he were being dressed up. What he was wearing was not his choice.

He walked to the door. To his surprise, it opened, easily. He walked through it, and stood on the landing, hesitantly.

"Arthur," he heard Eames' voice. "Arthur, darling, please come down here."

He did, heading downstairs, on legs that still felt weak and slightly shaky. He followed Eames, voice, and stood in the doorway of an imposing lounge. Heavy, dark furniture. Thick drapes. Eames was standing, smiling, holding a coffee cup. His eyes widened as he saw Arthur.

"Oh, my poor Arthur," he said, his voice gentle, melodic. "You're so thin...I haven't looked after you. You're so pale!"

Arthur stood, allowing Eames to look over his appearance. He looked at the older man, hesitantly, biting his lip. Eames walked forward and laid his hand on his cheek, softly caressing it.

"You're not well," he murmured. "And here I am, dressing you up...I need to get you recovered first!"

Arthur blinked. "OK," he managed to get out. Eames looked surprised, then pleased.

"Come on," he said, gently, "Food. You need fattening up, and I mean that sincerely."

Arthur blinked. "OK."

Eames took his arm and gently lead him to the dining room.

* * *

Cobb approached Ariadne's PA, his expression anxious. "Have you seen Ariadne at all?"

The PA looked up. "Sir, she's in a meeting."

"A meeting?" Cobb's brow creased. "Who with?"

The PA looked worried. "Sir, its with the Pol-"

She didn't get a chance to finish. Cobb barged into the meeting room.

* * *

"Finished?"

Arthur nodded. He hadn't realised how famished he was until he'd sat down. Eames had merely sipped black coffee and watched.

"I don't want to break you," Eames said, with a soft laugh. "You're very precious to me, you know."

Arthur nodded. He was beginning to feel a sense of detachment from his old life. He was beginning to wonder if the others had even cared. He blinked. Where had that thought come from?

"In fact," Eames whispered, "my doll needs a playhouse. Shall we go up there now?"

Arthur blinked. Fear was beginning to encroach again. Suddenly, he was reminded how he was slowly becoming the property of this man, who knew everything about him but gave away nothing of himself. He stiffened. Eames smiled, lazily, dangerously.

"Oh, darling," he cooed. "You've nothing to worry about. I'll never break my doll."

**All reviews appreciated and read, thank you!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur looked at Eames. "The -" he couldn't finish the sentence. Eames smiled, kindly.

"The playroom, Arthur." He looked at him. "I need to keep my doll in a playroom. Until its time for him to go back to the toy chest."

Arthur blinked. "The toy-"

"Don't worry," Eames interrupted, lowering his cup. "First, I need to show you the playroom. I need my doll to become comfortable in it."

A feeling of terror was beginning to blossom in Arthur's stomach, and its twin was awakening in his mind. He gripped the edge of the table.

Eames raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, don't worry," he said, his tone soothing. "I've always looked after my toys." The corners of his lips curled up in a smile. "Come on."

Eames got up, pushing his chair back. As if in a trance, Arthur followed him.

* * *

Cobb burst into the meeting room. "Ariadne, what are you-"

He stopped. Two detectives were sitting on chairs, opposite her. She was biting her lip, looking tearful.

"Mr Dominic Cobb?"

"Yes?" Cobb stood up straight, determined to give nothing away.

"Ms Henderson called us regarding Arthur Ogilvie." The detective was young, with questioning eyes. "He's been missing for over a week."

Cobb felt a stab of guilt. "Yes," he whispered.

"We're concerned about his whereabouts," the detective said, kindly. "And we would like your permission, as Mr Ogilvie's employer, to make a televised appeal."

Cobb felt his heart constrict. "Is that necessary?"

"Well, Mr Cobb-" the detective locked eyes with him - "the longer he's missing, the less likely he is to be found alive."

* * *

Arthur had followed Eames upstairs. He was fighting an urge to turn and run, but the knowledge there was no way out prevented him from doing so.

"In here."

Eames pushed open a door, and Arthur went in. Inside the room, he saw a huge bed. Covered with a dark red counterpane, it was framed by an exquisite wrought headboard. He swallowed.

"Start undressing."

Eames' voice was soft. But it was a command. Arthur began to take off the suit jacket.

"Let it drop to the floor."

Arthur did so, and began unbuttoning the vest. Soon, it slid off him and dropped to his feet.

"Shirt." Eames was beginning to circle him, and Arthur was reminded of a vulture hovering over its prey. He felt his throat constrict.

"Trousers."

Arthur unbelted and let them fall to the floor. Eames was perusing him.

"Oh, nice," he whispered. "Get on the bed. Lie on your stomach."

Arthur did so. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Eames was shedding his clothes. He swallowed as he felt the other man approach.

"Arthur," he heard Eames. "Arthur, I'm going to give you a massage. Just a massage. Close your eyes."

Arthur did so. He felt Eames' hands on his skin, caressing, pummelling gently. His muscles relaxed.

"Eames..."

"Silence."

Arthur blinked at the sudden command. "I-"

"Silence. From now on, you speak only when I speak to you. And from now on, you are referred to as my Doll. The Doll. Do you understand? Nod if you do."

Numb, Arthur nodded, fear washing though him.

* * *

"A televised appeal?" Cobb swallowed. "When?"

"Tonight." The detective looked at him. "To be broadcast during peak times. If Mr Ogilvie has been abducted, chances are the abductor has already begun to see him as an object."

* * *

"Oh, my poor little doll," Eames whispered, running his hands down his body. "My Doll doesn't want for anything. My Doll doesn't need anyone but me. Does my Doll understand?"

Arthur nodded. He felt the only way to escape from this insanity was to appear to agree to Eames' commands.

"My Doll wouldn't be lying to me, would he? Because if my Doll lies to me..."

There was an undercurrent of menace that made Arthur shiver. Suddenly, he felt Eames turn him over. Swallowing he looked up at the older man. At his muscular chest, covered with a pattern of tattoos. Eames was gently running his fingers over his chest.

"My Doll is very much loved." Leaning over, he kissed Arthur's forehead. He began to get up, walking across the room, displaying his muscular back. Arthur ran his eyes over it. He had no chance of overpowering Eames.

The Forger was bending down, reaching behind a chair. Smiling, he stood up, holding a case.

"My Doll needs to close his eyes," he said, softly.

Arthur nodded, and did so. Suddenly, he became aware of something pushing, probing its way into his arm. He gasped.

"Sssh," Eames, said, gently stroking his hair. "My Doll needs to dream."

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

"Are you ready?"

Ariadne swallowed, and nodded. She was sitting behind a long table, Cobb seated next to her. She'd refreshed her make up and was looking at the camera. It had been decided that for the broadcast appeal, she was the one who would deliver it. The lead detective on the case, Forde, smiled reassuringly.

"We'll find him," he said, his voice holding a gentle promise.

She nodded. As the light shined in her face, she opened her mouth.

* * *

Arthur blinked. He was standing in the middle of the office. A young woman walked past.

"Ariadne?" he asked, his voice hesitant.

She looked at him, shrugged her shoulders, and walked past. Feeling stunned, Arthur watched her.

* * *

"Arthur is a very gentle, sweet young man," Ariadne said, her voice threatening to crack. Cobb, biting his lip, slipped his hand under the table, grabbed her hand, and squeezed it.

"He wouldn't hurt anyone," she continued.

Cobb looked down at the table. Guilt was beginning to pulse through him.

"He is loved, and respected," Ariadne paused. Forde nodded. By talking about Arthur in this way, he'd told her, the abductor was more likely to see him as a human being.

"He is loved, and wanted."

* * *

"Ariadne?" Arthur's voice was cracking slightly, uncertainty beginning to take root. "Ariadne, why are you ignoring me?"

She didn't turn round. He followed her down the hallway. Finally, she turned and faced him. "Jesus, Arthur, will you back off!" she spat.

He took a step back. "What?"

"Just back off!" Ariadne's face was a mask of anger. "You are so annoying, so irritating! You come on dates with me and Dom, you're always in the way! You need to get a life, find someone of your own, and stop bothering us!"

Arthrur's jaw dropped slightly. "Ari, I'm not-"

"Yes you are!" She practically screamed. "Get away from me!"

* * *

"If you have Arthur," Ariadne said, her voice sounding firmer. "Please, let him go. Give him back to us."

Cobb shifted, and squeezed her hand harder. Ariadne cleared her throat.

"Arthur doesn't deserve this," she said, looking directly at the camera. "He deserves his life back."

* * *

Eames smiled, and caressed Arthur's arm. They were lying together, on a blanket, in a park, in the second layer of the dream. He was feeling smugly pleased at his forging of Ariadne. Through his infiltrating of the office in a myriad of ways - letter courier, coffee machine repair man, visiting executive to Saito - he'd managed to observe the young woman, her voice, her mannerisms, her speech habits.

Arthur stirred, and opened his eyes. "Wha-"

"Sssh," Eames said gently, rubbing his arm. "Ssshh. My Doll doesn't need them."

Arthur lay, slightly frozen. Then, he burst into tears.

"Oh, what is it?" Eames exclaimed, pulling the younger man into his arms. "What is wrong with my Doll?"

"It was-" Arthur choked, seemingly barely able to get the words out. "A friend of mine, she-"

"She's not my Doll's friend," Eames said, pulling him closer. "She upset my Doll."

"It was a dream-"

"But dreams tell us what people really think," Eames whispered, softly. "My Doll needs to trust me."

Arthur choked out a sob, and Eames rubbed his back. "Come on," he said softly, "My Doll doesn't need anyone. He has me."

Arthur clutched at Eames as though he were drowning. "I-"

"Speak when you're spoken to," Eames reminded him. "I love my Doll." Suddenly, the ground began to shake, and Eames pulled Arthur closer. "I'll always protect my Doll."

* * *

Ariadne wiped her eyes. The filming was over, and Forde gave her a smile. "Thank you," he said, appreciatively. "Pitch perfect. We'll get this out in the six pm broadcast."

She nodded. "Do you think it'll help?"

"Could do." Forde frowned. "But its clear that Arthur has friends, and that may be all the conscience prick the abductor needs."

She nodded. "Arthur does have friends." She looked at Cobb. "We just want him back."

* * *

Eames looked at Arthur. Both men were awake, in the bedroom. Arthur looked slightly bewildered, and Eames quickly pulled the IV out of his arm. Standing up, he straddled Arthur, his size and height dwarfing the younger man.

"Repeat after me. The Doll does not have friends."

Arthur swallowed. He looked up at Eames. "The Doll does not have friends," he repeated, his voice quavering slightly.

"Again. The Doll does not have friends."

"The Doll does not have friends."

Eames leaned down, and took Arthur's chin. "Perfect," he whispered.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur blinked. Eames was standing at the foot of the bed. He slowly began to raise himself, on his elbows. A glance out the window revealed a darkening sky.

Eames was dressed in a suit. Dark grey, well cut. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Arthur.

"The Doll needs to get up."

Eames' voice was toneless. It was a command. Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but a glare from the older man froze him.

"The Doll will get dressed, in a black suit. The Doll will come downstairs for dinner." Eames looked at Arthur. "The Doll needs to be polite, punctual, and well presented."

Eames turned, and walked to the door. As he opened it to leave, he turned back to face Arthur.

"The Doll has twenty minutes to get ready."

Feeling a lump develop in his throat, Arthur saw the door close.

* * *

Eames was sitting at the table. He looked up as Arthur approached. Clad in a black suit, with a white shirt, he cut a striking figure. Eames smiled, appreciatively.

"The Doll will sit down."

Arthur did so, noting how a plate with a cover was already on the table. He looked at Eames.

"The Doll will raise the cover."

Swallowing, Arthur lifted the silver cover. He noted steak, with salad. He swallowed. Despite the trauma of the last couple of days, hunger was beginning to come back.

The Doll will only eat half of what is served."

Half! Arthur looked at Eames, his astonishment showing on his face. Eames picked up his wine glass, and took a sip.

"The Doll isn't going to get fat." His words were clipped. "If The Doll does, I will no longer have any use for The Doll. The Doll will not survive without me. So The Doll isn't going to get fat."

Arthur blinked. Eames was beginning to terrify him.

"The Doll isn't going to drink any wine." Arthur noted with a jolt that his glass only contained water. "The Doll isn't going to get drunk."

Arthur pushed his chair back. This was insanity. He put his hands on the table, ready to get up. Suddenly, Eames spoke again.

"Is The Doll thinking of trying to leave?"

Arthur paused. Eames' eyes were narrowed. He picked up his glass, and took another sip of wine. An agonising silence descended between the two men. Arthur swallowed, and began to get up.

"If The Doll tries to leave-" the words hung in the air. Eames took another sip of wine.

Arthur sat down. His heart was pounding. The unspoken threat was all too clear. He picked up his cutlery. Eames nodded. "The Doll can eat."

Arthur cut a small piece off the steak, and forced it into his mouth. It lay there, richly. Chewing, he swallowed with effort.

Eames nodded. "That's right. My Doll is doing the right thing."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "My Doll." Clearly, this was how he would be referred to if he pleased Eames. He took another bite of salad, appreciating its crispness.

"My Doll should relax." Eames smiled over the top of his wine glass. "My Doll is going to be fully loved and pleasured tonight."

Arthur took another bite of steak.

"My Doll will be made to feel like a Prince." Eames took another sip of wine. "I promise." He looked at his watch. "My Doll will be upstairs, naked, in twenty minutes."

Arthur nodded. Trying to ignore the panic that was rising, he took another swallow of water.

* * *

Arthur lay on the bed. He was stripped, down to his boxers. He looked at the ceiling. Suddenly, the door opened, and Eames entered.

"My Doll," Eames said, tenderly, "My Doll, lying here, just for me."

He began to straddle Arthur. The younger man swallowed, and felt his wrists being held. With a sense of shock, he realised they were being tied to the bedstead.

"My Doll likes being restrained." Eames was beginning to kiss Arthur's chest. "My Doll likes feeling helpless."

_Say something! _Arthur's mind screamed.

"My Doll..."Eames was beginning to put his fingers under Arthur's boxers, threatening to pull them off. "My Doll needs this. My Doll only exists for this."

Arthur blinked. Friends...why weren't they...? With a sense of shock, he suddenly realised that his memories of them were disrupted. He couldn't clearly focus on who they were.

"Repeat after me," Eames said, his voice smooth. "The Doll only exists for Eames."

Arthur swallowed. "The Doll only exists for Eames."

"The Doll is here for Eames."

"The Doll is here for Eames."

Eames grinned, wolfishly. "That's right," he whispered. With one movement, he tore Arthur's boxers from his frame.

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated. I like to know who is reading this - thank you!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur trembled slightly. Eames was gently running his fingers down his stomach.

"The Doll is so slight..." Eames' voice was almost a purr. "So slender...so breakable..."

Arthur stiffened.

"The Doll is perfect...will be even more perfect..."

Suddenly, Eames put his lips to his stomach, and began to kiss, downwards. Arthur held his breath, and suddenly, found his hand grasping the bed' counterpane as Eames' mouth took him whole. For a few moments, he felt a wave of pleasure wash over him.

Eames released him, and looked at him. "Does The Doll want more?"

Arthur swallowed. "I-"

"No. The Doll will answer me correctly. Or The Doll will not be played with. The Doll will go back to the toychest, and The Doll will not come out until The Doll can behave."

Arthur took a deep breath. "The Doll wants more. The Doll wants more, please!"

"Then The Doll shall have more." Chuckling, Eames leaned down again, his tongue gently grazing Arthur's shaft. "The Doll will have more. The Doll will sigh with pleasure."

Arthur nodded. "The Doll will sigh with pleasure."

"Good." Opening his mouth, Eames took Arthur whole.

* * *

Ariadne rinsed the plate. Tension from the day was beginning to set in, and her fingers were starting to shake. Cobb looked at her, and reached for the plate. "Let me help you."

"Thank you." She was avoiding looking at him, and he swallowed, trying to think of something to say.

"I hope Arthur's abductor sees the broadcast." Her voice was tremulous, and he swallowed.

"I hope he does as well." He cringed. "Ari, I-"

"You should have told the Police!" Her voice was furious. "This is all YOUR fault! If A rthur dies - I hope you're proud of yourself, Dom! You cowardly-"

She broke off, unable to finish the sentence. Her eyes filling with tears, she pushed past him and ran for the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

Arthur closed his eyes. Eames was kissing him, up to his collar bone. He suddenly felt the larger man's weight bearing down on him.

"Am I hurting you?" Eames murmured.

Arthur's eyes flew open in shock. Eames had not referred to him as The Doll.

"The Doll is fine," he said, his voice trembling slightly. Eames' unpredictability was unnerving him.

"Good. I'm not hurting you." Eames leaned forward and kissed his neck. "You're so precious to me- so precious-"

"The Doll isn't hurt," Arthur said, his voice steady. "The Doll is only here for Eames."

Eames pulled him close. "Eames is here only for The Doll."

Arthur blinked.

"I won't leave you," Eames whispered. "I promise. I love you, I love you, I love you."

Arthur swallowed. "The Doll loves Eames."

Eames relinquished his grip. Sitting up, he turned to Arthur's wrists, and untied the restraints. He smiled. "The Doll can sit up now."

Arthur did so, rubbing his wrists. Eames got up, and picked up his own boxers, carefully sliding them back on.

"Does The Doll really love me?" His voice was slightly tremulous. Arthur nodded.

"The Doll really loves you."

"Then The Doll will forgive me." Eames looked at him. "Ive got to go away for a few days. Business. The Doll will be taken care of until I get back."

Arthur watched as Eames turned and walked to the door. He looked at him.

"The Doll had better not try and escape." Eames' eyes narrowed as he looked at the younger man. "Or I will break The Doll." He opened the door. "I love The Doll. But The Doll does not displease me."

With a bang, the door shut. Arthur lay back on the bed, his eyes filling with tears of fright and relief.

**All readers appreciated, and I'd love some reviews, thank you!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur swung his legs over the side of the bed. He put them down, and reached for the bathrobe that had suddenly materialised overnight. Black silk. As he pulled it over his shoulders, he tied the belt at his waist, and tried the door.

To his surprise, it was unlocked.

He opened it, and cautiously put his head round the doorframe. He could hear no sign of any movement, but decided that he had to see what was in the house.

He walked down the stairs, his legs still slightly weak from the fever, and bed confinement. Swallowing, he approached the door of the dining room. As he opened it, his eyes widened.

The table was laid, for one person. The omnipresent silver dome was present, as was a silver coffee pot. Taking a deep breath, Arthur lifted the lid.

A full breakfast. Grits, hash browns, bacon...he felt himself start to salivate. He also noticed something else next to it. A note. He picked it up.

_The Doll will eat this. The Doll will eat all of it. The Doll will be punished if he does not._

Arthur exhaled, slowly. His stomach growled, and he realised he was hungry after being forbidden to eat more at the previous nights' dinner. Pulling the chair out, he sat down, and picking up the cutlery, began to eat.

Suddenly, he paused. He was giving into Eames. By eating this, he was allowing him to control him.

Then he had a thought. He turned the note over, his eyes widening at what he saw.

_The Doll will EAT ALL OF IT. The Doll WILL NOT BE FED for the rest of the day. _

He swallowed. He had no choice. Despising himself for giving in, and feeling pangs of hunger pierce his stomach, he continued to eat.

* * *

Eames seated himself in first class, and took his glass of complimentary wine.

"Would you like to see the menu?" The flight attendant was male, and attractive. Eames didn't even so much as look at him, merely shrugged his consent as he took a sip.

_I have The Doll. The Doll is all I need. _

* * *

"Ari?" She ignored the gentle knocking on the door. "Ari, please, we need to talk."

She ignored him. Swallowing, she reached for the phone.

* * *

Arthur let the cutlery clatter to the plate. Eames believed in feeding him, he thought - at a price.

He got up. The morning was clear, and bright, and he felt a desperate urge to go for a walk. But he knew he would be able to get out. Eames would not run the chance of him escaping again.

He sank back into the seat. Nothing to do. Nothing. He got up, and decided to try the other rooms on the floor.

* * *

Eames entered his hotel. It was a large room, and well furnished. He allowed himself to sink onto the bed.

Business trips. He hated them. Now he had something to go back to, he hated them even more. They took him away from his Doll.

* * *

Arthur opened one door. Sparsely furnished, it gave the impression of an old fashioned drawing room. The musty smell indicated it had been sealed for some time. Wrinkling his nose at the dust, he shut the door. Turning, he moved onto the next. Swallowing, he opened the door.

* * *

"Hello, Simmons Investigations, Ltd."

Ariadne swallowed. "Hi, I'd like to know - how much does it cost to hire your services?"

A pause. "What service do you want?"

"I'd like you to help me find a missing person."

A silence fell on the other end of the line. "I could help you. You'll need to come into the office to discuss it."

* * *

The young chemist looked up as Eames approached, and smiled. "Eames!" His small lab, set on the outskirts of Chicago, was a thriving supplier to pharmaceutical companies, but he still entertained the odd private client.

"Hello, Yusuf." The two men shook hands, and Yusuf gestured to a seat. "What can I do for you?" He leaned back in his own, and smiled again.

Eames leaned forward. "I need some sedative, Yusuf. Some of your more concentrated doses."

The dark haired man raised his eyebrows. "What for?"

Eames smiled. "I need to help Dom in carrying out an inception. One that will go to three layers."

Yusuf looked taken aback. "I didn't realise you and Dom were still working together." He shrugged. "My mistake."

"Oh, we are," Eames said, smoothly. "And this is an important job. It'll change everything about this man."

"Really?" Yusuf looked curious. "Can you-"

"Oh, no, I'm sorry, I've said too much." Eames leaned back, his smile becoming teasing. "Confidential, you know the drill."

"Oh, I do." Yusuf handed over a small box, which Eames accepted by handing over several hundreds' worth of dollar bills. "Pleasure doing business with you."

The older man smiled. "Likewise."

* * *

Arthur wandered into another room, not sure of what he was looking for. Suddenly, his heart begin to pound.

A television.

The room contained a television. Swallowing, he switched it on. He had to know there was still a world outside. He had to. He picked up the remote, and began to scan the channels.

Suddenly, he stopped. His heart was pounding.

Someone was on the screen. Someone he recognised. He leaned forward, and raised the volume.

"Ariadne," he whispered. A memory suddenly shot into his mind. She was sitting there, behind a table, next to Dom. Next to them, was a picture of a young man, dark haired.

Himself.

"If anyone has seen Arthur," Ariadne was saying, her voice breaking. "Please let us know. Arthur is a kind, gentle man. If you have Arthur, please, let him go."

Arthur switched off the set, his mind in turmoil. His dreams - he'd been waking up convinced that his friends rejected him. Suddenly, a shiver of terror went down his spine, and he turned and fled the room.

**All readers appreciated, and I'd love some reviews, thank you!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Eames entered the main hallway, smiling. "Where are you?" he called.

Arthur, upon hearing his voice, began to stiffen. He'd seen the appeal, and was beginning to feel more unsure than he previously had. He'd been beginning to believe that his friends had abandoned him, than there was no-one left for him but Eames. But now...

Footsteps. He shivered, and pulled the black silk robe tighter around himself. He swallowed, trying to stay calm. Suddenly, the door began to open.

"Well," Eames said, narrowing his eyes. "The Doll should be standing up, and prepared to greet me."

Arthur got to his feet. He looked into Eames' grey eyes, feeling a sudden surge of anger. This man had stolen him from his life, and was trying to sever his ties with it. He took a step back from Eames.

"Don't touch me." His voice was curt. Eames raised an eyebrow.

"The Doll does not speak to me like that." His tone was stiff. "The Doll remembers who he is speaking to."

"I'm not the doll!" Arthur shouted back. "I am not your doll!"

Eames took a step forward. Arthur felt a sudden flicker of fear.

"You are my doll." Eames' voice was eerily toneless, almost dead. "You are my doll, and you will stay me doll. Forever."

"You lied to me." Arthur felt another surge of anger.

"I did not lie to the doll."

"You made me think that my friends didn't care about me, that-"

Suddenly, he felt a shove. Eames had pushed him, hard, sending him sprawling on the bed. He gasped, and struggled to sit up.

"The Doll is forgetting himself." Eames looked at him. "The Doll needs to be taught a lesson."

Arthur blinked. "Are you going to leave me again?" he shouted as Eames turned and left the room. "If so, don't come back!"

Suddenly, Eames stopped. Arthur felt a sickening feeling spread in the pit of his stomach as the man turned.

"Leave the Doll?" Eames voice was quiet, mocking. "Never."

Arthur swallowed. Eames had shut the door; he assumed the older man would lock it. He got up, and turned. Suddenly, he felt a hand clamp on his upper arm.

"Get on the bed. Face down."

Arthur complied. Eames was squeezing his upper arm, causing a flutter of panic.

"The Doll will be naked."

Arthur began shedding the robe. He was still wearing his boxers, and with one movement, Eames looped his fingers under them and pulled them off. He felt the older man's hand gently caress his buttocks.

Suddenly, he felt something press against them. Something wooden. With a sense of shock, he realised what Eames intended to do.

"The Doll doesn't want to play." Eames' voice was sorrowful. "The Doll needs to be punished."

Eames took a step back. Arthur suddenly felt the heavy wooden paddle strike him across his buttocks. A burning, searing pain started, and he realised with a jolt, tears were forming in his eyes.

"The Doll needs to learn."

Another blow. Arthur felt a curious mixture of pleasure and pain. This had never happened to him before. He closed his eyes.

"The Doll will want to play."

A third blow. Arthur moved slightly. He was suddenly painfully aware of an erection that was beginning.

"The Doll will always do as its told."

Arthur's eyes flew open. It? He was now being completely dehumanised.

"The Doll does not need anyone else. It will always have me. It will never speak to me disrespectfully, or hurtfully, ever again."

Another blow. Arthur put his head on the bed, tears leaking out of the corners. Eames had won.

Suddenly, he felt another hand caressing him. Gently, softly.

"The Doll will always be taken care of." Eames' voice was soft, persuasive. "The Doll will never need anything. The Doll will always be loved. It will always be loved."

Eames turned, and left. Gasping, Arthur twisted his head. "Don't leave!" he cried out.

Eames stopped. And turned, smiling. "I'll never leave My Doll."

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur swallowed. Eames had gone downstairs; he was positive. He felt a peculiar mixture of defiance and submission beginning to rise in him.

He needed to leave. But, perversely, he also wanted to see what would happen if he stayed. If he tried to defy Eames. He was convinced that Ariadne and Dom had not forgotten him; that they wanted to find him. But Eames -

"Whats going to happen if the Doll defies you?" he whispered. Swallowing, he got up, and reached for his bathrobe. Pulling it on and tying it round his waist, he began to prepared to leave the room.

* * *

"Do you think Arthur knows we're looking for him?"

Dom swallowed, and took Ariadne's hand. "I hope so," he said, with feeling. He squeezed it gently, and she smiled, timidly.

"Its just...who would take Arthur?" She looked at Dom. "I think you know."

Dom swallowed. "Ari, we've had this conversation-"

She pulled her hand out of his. "I know."

* * *

Arthur walked down the stairs. A defiance was growing in him, but also a slight malice. He reached the bottom, and started to walk down the hallway. He began to carefully open doors. Finally, he found the one he wanted.

The kitchen.

Arthur vividly remembered how Eames had behaved at the dinner table, virtually forbidding him to eat. With a sense of defiance, he walked to the refrigerator, and pulled it open. Finding a chocolate cake, he pulled it out, and cut himself a slice.

He opened a drawer, and found a fork. Sitting down, he pushed the fork in, and began to eat. He felt himself melt - he'd not eaten anything properly sugary or creamy for some time.

Since he was abducted.

Smiling to himself, he picked up the plate, and headed back to his room. As he was going up the stairs, he heard Eames' voice.

"What is The Doll doing? It shouldn't be out of its room."

Arthur turned, slowly, defiantly, and raised an eyebrow. The impact was immediate - he saw Eames' eyes narrow.

"I'm getting myself something."

Eames looked at him, and despite his outwardly cool demeanour, Arthur felt himself tremble slightly as the older man took a step towards him.

"I said, what does it think its doing?"

"I was getting myself something."

Eames took a step onto the stairs. Arthur fought the impulse to turn and run.

"What was The Doll getting?"

Smiling, Arthur offered the plate. "I was getting cake."

"Cake," Eames muttered. "It wants cake?"

Arthur couldn't resist a smirk. "Yes."

"Fine." Eames turned and walked back down the stairs. Arthur, feeling slightly shaken by the abruptness of the older man's departure, turned and walked back up the stairs. He went into his room, and opened the door. Sitting on the bed, he put the plate on the side table.

A feeling of apprehension was growing. He knew that Eames would come in. Sitting on the bed, he waited, expectantly.

An hour passed.

Two hours.

Three hours later, Arthur began to feel crushed, diminished. Eames was not coming. He got up, and walked into the bathroom. After washing, he decided he had no option but to go to bed. He got in, pulling the covers tight. Lying down, he closed his eyes, switching off the light.

Suddenly, the door opened. Arthur didn't stir. Eames approached.

"Wake up."

Arthur flickered his eyelids, feeling Eames stroke the side of his face.

"If The Doll wants cake..." his voice was silky, "then it shall have cake. It needs to open its mouth."

Arthur opened his eyes. Eames was standing over him. He began to part his lips.

"It needs to open its mouth." Suddenly, Eames fingers wrapped themselves around Arthur's jaw, causing his mouth to open. With a feeling of shock, a chunk of chocolate cake was suddenly pushed in. He chewed frantically, trying to swallow the large mass.

"Good?" Eames said, stroking his cheek. Arthur nodded, too stunned to say anything.

"Good", Eames said again, continuing to stroke his cheek. "The Doll needs a treat, sometimes. It can't get fat thought. I won't tolerate it if it gets fat."

Eames got up, and began to leave. As he did so, he turned, and looked at him.

"I don't think you've had enough," he said, gently. Walking back, he sat on the bed, and picked up the remains of the slice that Arthur had left on the side of the bed.

"Now," he said, gently holding s forkful to Arthur's lips. "Does The Doll still want a treat?"

Too shaken to refuse, Arthur nodded, dumbly, parting his lips as Eames brought the fork to him.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur looked at the door. He'd been in his room for two days. Eames had not visited him once. He had not even tapped on the door. His meals had been left outside, on a tray. Arthur had searched for signs of a note, only to find nothing.

Eames was ignoring him. He blinked. He'd come to him, fed him cake, and then just left. Vanished. Disappeared. Leaving Arthur in here, alone.

He rubbed his face. He'd let his chin become stubbled, and he hadn't changed out of the bathrobe either. He swallowed. He should have a shower, get himself cleaned up. But he admitted he was also waiting for the others to find him.

_But what if they dont'? _A voice inside his head naggingly persisted. _What if you stay here with Eames for the rest of your life? _

Arthur blinked. Staying here with Eames. He couldn't deny that a powerful feeling was awakening in him - the feeling of almost enjoying his submission. In the real world, he was put upon, relied upon, had to kowtow to bosses - but here, his kowtowing had a point. The more he allowed Eames to dominate him, to make him The Doll, the more, he felt, Eames would do for him.

His heart began to pound. Did he want to stay with Eames? His head began to swim, when suddenly, the door opened, with a bang. Eames filled the doorway. Dressed in a plain black suit, he was imposing. As he surveyed Arthur, his eyes narrowed.

"The Doll," he said, his words carefully enunciated, "looks slovenly. I will not tolerate it. The Doll will shave, the Doll will shower, the Doll will dress. The Doll will then come to the playroom, and stand outside the door. The Doll will not enter until it has been told to enter. If it does..."

His voice trailed off, and he locked eyes with Arthur.

"...it will be punished." He smiled, and his eyes glittered. "Does the Doll want to know how it will be punished?"

Against his will, Arthur nodded.

"I will break it."

Shaken, Arthur watched as Eames shut the door, and left.

* * *

"Ms Henderson?"

Ariadne looked up. The detective, Rivers, was standing in front of her, his face kind. She swallowed. "May I help you?"

The detective bit his lip. "Its really to update you on Mr Ogilvie. Can we go somewhere private?"

She nodded. "Of course. This way."

* * *

Arthur took a deep breath. He was standing outside the Playroom, dressed in a clean suit. He'd shaved, showered, and applied cologne. He exhaled, slowly. Suddenly, the door opened.

"Come in."

Arthur did so. And as he did, his eyes widened.

The bed was covered in red rose petals. He blinked - normally, he would have dismissed this as a cliche. But something about it struck him as romantic. He walked towards the bed.

"Stop."

He did so. He couldn't see Eames, but from the rustle behind him, guessed where he was.

"Stand still."

Arthur did so.

"The Doll will open its mouth."

Arthur complied, a feeling of panic beginning to consume him. Suddenly, he felt something shoved into his mouth.

"The Doll will bite down."

Arthur realised what it was, and his eyes widened. A gag. He choked, and Eames removed it.

"Does the Doll not like that?" his voice was soft, almost considerate. Arthur nodded.

"Then I won't make the Doll wear it." Eames stepped behind him, and began to caress his neck. "The Doll will not wear the gag. But, the Doll is to be silent for the whole night. Even when I'm taking it in ways it cannot imagine. It won't scream, it won't cry out. Does it understand?"

Arthur nodded.

"Right." Eames deftly stripped Arthur of his jacket, then reached around his waist and unbuckled his trousers, letting them fall to the floor. Then, with one movement, he put his hands on the front of Arthur's shirt and ripped it apart. Arthur swallowed as the buttons fell harmlessly to the floor.

"The Doll will get on the bed. Face down."

Arthur, clad in nothing but his boxers, complied. As he lay facedown, he felt the older man's heavier weight climb onto the bed, and straddled him. He suddenly felt Eames' fingers running down his back.

"Arthur..."

Arthur's head snapped up. He'd used his name. He began to shiver.

"Arthur...I don't want to hurt you."

Arthur swallowed, unable to speak.

"Arthur...I just want you. I want you, and I want you to want me. But I have to control you, because I know otherwise, you'd leave me." He was running his hands down his back. "I-"

Suddenly, he paused. Then he spoke again, in the same harsh tone he's previously used.

"I am going to fuck the Doll until it hurts."

Arthur paused. Then, he found his voice.

"No, Eames. No you're not."

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated. I like to know who is reading this - thank you!**


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Eames exhaled, slowly. Arthur heard, and felt his body shudder.

"What did the Doll just say?" Eames' voice was soft, pulsing with an undertone of menace. "Repeat. Slowly."

"I said," Arthur stated, ignoring Eames' command completely, "that you are not going to fuck me, Eames. You're not. Get off me."

Eames was still. Arthur blinked, waiting for the fury to be unleashed. Instead, he felt a hand run down his back.

Suddenly, he heard a chuckle. A deep, throaty chuckle. Arthur stiffened.

"I'm not going to fuck you, Arthur," Eames said, his voice low. "I'm going to fuck the Doll. I'll do anything to make the Doll cum. And when it has, it will be mine forever."

Arthur rolled over. "Well, the Doll is ready," he said, a smile beginning to inch across his face. "The Doll is waiting."

Smiling, Eames leaned over, putting his face towards Arthur's.

* * *

"So what have you found out?" Ariadne asked, anxiously twisting a ring on her finger.

The detective smiled. "Its a little odd, Ms Henderson. No-one has reported having seen anything. Mr Ogilvie's neighbours have said he was a quiet man, who kept himself to himself. They barely saw him from one day to the next."

"So..." Ariadne swallowed.

"I'm sorry," Rivers said, his face pulling into a frown. "But we have no clues as to why he's disappeared, or how."

Ariadne paled. "Do you think you'll ever find him?"

Rivers shook his head. "I'm sorry. We're going to start looking for a body."

* * *

"Oh, God," Eames breathed. "I will -" he leaned over Arthur, tantalisingly close, his lips reaching, searching downwards.

Arthur obliged, putting his face upwards, to meet Eames' mouth.

Suddenly, a scream began to rip the air apart. As Eames fell back, his lower lip bleeding, Arthur took advantage to shove the older man off him. Getting to his feet, while Eames was dealing with his bleeding mouth, he ran to the door. He grasped the handle, only to suddenly find himself sinking to the floor.

Locked.

"Not going somewhere?"

He turned, his body shaking. Eames was standing up, with a slight trickle of blood dribbling down his chin. His normally light grey eyes were almost black. Arthur found himself cringing.

Eames leaned down, and began to stroke Arthur's cheek. Arthur had to resist an urge to slap the man's hand away. Instead, Eames began to nuzzle at him, gently.

"My poor little doll," he whispered. "I've frightened it. I've scared it. It doesn't want me." He stood up, and to Arthur's astonishment, a couple of tears ran down his face. "It wants to go."

Arthur swallowed. Eames' behaviour was bewildering. "The Doll-" he said, noting how his voice was shaking - "The Doll wants you to love it."

Eames knelt down, and took Arthur's chin in his hand. "Does it?"

Arthur swallowed, his own eyes shining with tears. "The Doll is lonely." He blinked, thinking of all the evenings he'd spent by himself. "The Doll wants to feel wanted by someone." He blinked. "The Doll needs to be loved!"

Eames reached down and put one arm around his back.

"Then the Doll shall be wanted."

With one motion, he lifted Arthur up, and carried him to the bed. Lying him down, the bigger man immediately began to straddle him. Leaning down, he began to kiss Arthur's torso. Tenderly, gently. Arthur felt his skin tingle at the other man's touch.

Eames smiled as Arthur began to moan slightly. His fingers traced down, and began to hook around his boxers, pulling them down. Arthur felt his erection begin to harden. Eames, noting this, immediately moved his hand to Arthur's shaft, and began gently caressing it.

"I will never leave my doll," Eames whispered. "All my doll has to do is please me. I will love it forever."

Closing his eyes, and realising he was trapped, Arthur allowed Eames to caress him. But suddenly, another thought entered his head:

_Is it wrong if he loves me? _

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur stirred, and became aware of a larger, weightier presence in the bed.

Swallowing, he rolled over, and looked. Eames was lying next to him, on his side, one arm casually slung across the pillow. Arthur studied him; in sleep the man looked far less menacing than he did awake. His lips pouted slightly, and his face appeared softer, more innocent.

Arthur swallowed. He was aware of feeling exhausted, and last night was beginning to flood back. Eames had taken him. Made him his. He'd caressed his skin, whispered softly to him, and left a trail of marks across his neck and shoulders. He'd refused to let him go, and Arthur remembered some of his comments.

"The Doll must scream for me," Eames had said. "No-one can hear it."

Arthur had. The slow caressing, the tracing of kisses across his skin, and the fact that Eames had been showering him with both affection and disdain for what seemed to be weeks, only heightened his sense of arousal. Arthur couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so desired, so wanted. He couldn't remember the last time a man had actually brought him to a state of post-orgasmic bliss. He remembered that he'd collapsed back on to the bed, almost gasping. Eames had simply wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer to his chest.

"Is The Doll happy?" he'd whispered. Arthur knew how he must respond.

"The Doll is happy," he replied. "The Doll is happy!" Suddenly, Arthur had felt loved, and wanted. In those brief moments, he'd felt a sense of belonging.

_Could I stand it? _he thought to himself. He would be a rich man's toy, a plaything, something that had no sense of purpose except in simply existing for Eames. He knew he would never want for anything - Eames seemed determined to shower him with anything he wanted, spoil him endlessly.

He leaned back on the pillows, a smile beginning to inch across his face. He'd be wanted, desired-

"Why is the Doll still in my bed?"

He blinked. Eames was awake, and his tone was sharp. Arthur turned and looked at him.

"The Doll needs to hear it again. Why is it still in my bed? Why has it not gone back to its toy chest?"

Arthur felt his cheeks redden with confusion, and shock. He'd stayed in Eames bed, assuming the older man wanted him to remain. From the harsh way Eames was glaring at him, he realised he was wrong.

"The Doll needs to get out." Eames turned away from him. "It can go back to its toy chest. I'll fetch it when I need it."

Arthur blinked, suddenly feeling tears starting to sting his eyes. This couldn't be happening. He'd felt wanted, desired, loved - and now he realised just what he was. A possession.

Swallowing, he got out of bed, wincing slightly as his muscles screamed at him. He reached to the floor, and picked up his discarded boxers, trying desperately to hide his modesty. He felt diminished, reduced. Walking to the door, he tried to smother a sob. He cast a look back to the figure lying in the bed. Seeing Eames didn't stir, he opened the door, and left.

* * *

Ariadne swallowed as she looked at Dom. "They're going to start looking for a body."

The older man's face paled. "What?"

"You heard. They're going to start looking for a body." Ariadne glared at him. "You can stop this! Who has Arthur?"

Dom felt his throat constrict. "Ariadne, if I try and find him myself-" he looked at her. Her face was pale, her eyes hard. "Will you help me?"

To his surprise, she nodded. "Yes." She looked at him again. "But not for you. For Arthur."

* * *

Arthur lay in bed. He'd felt there was no point in trying to do anything. He stared at the ceiling, watching a tiny spider crawl across the space. It found a crack, and disappeared. For safety? Or to hide?

Suddenly, the door opened. He didn't bother to look. He knew he it was. His stomach recolied slightly as the scent of Eames' cologne hit him. The older man was standing above him. He was holding a silver case.

"The Doll needs to give me its arm."

Arthur ignored him. Eames spoke again.

"The Doll needs to give me its arm. Please."

Stunned, Arthur held it out. Eames opened the case, and before he could move again, a thin plastic tube had snaked up and entered it. Suddenly, he noticed Eames' arm had an identical IV in it. He swallowed.

"The Doll needs to close its eyes."

Arthur did so.

"I need to convince my Doll to love me."

Suddenly, Arthur was plunged into darkness.

**All readers appreciated, and I'd love some reviews, thank you!**


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur blinked. He was in a room. A sealed room. No windows, no doors. He swallowed, and felt a frission of fear.

"Is anyone there?" he called. He stepped back, noting how his voice echoed around the empty space.

Looking round, he realised that the room was small. He slumped. Small, sealed...how long before he suffocated? How long before he possibly fainted? Panic began rising and pounding in his chest.

"Please!" He shouted, banging on the doors. "Let me out!"

* * *

Ariadne swallowed, and looked at the detective. "Looking for a body?"

"Yes," Rivers said, nodding. "I'm afraid we have to. Its been three weeks since Mr Ogilvie was last seen." He swallowed. "The best thing we can do is to start dredging the lake, searching fields, and also roads."

Ariadne twisted her hand in her lap. "What if he's-" she swallowed - "what if he's just hiding somewhere?"

The detective looked surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Well, what if Arthur is just hiding somewhere? What if he decided to just vanish for a while?"

Rivers swallowed. "If that is the case, then he'll have some explaining to do. But, its perfectly legal for an adult to disappear of their own accord. But its generally courteous to let people know that they're going somewhere."

She nodded. "But what if he's been abducted?"

Rivers looked at her. "No response to our appeal."

"But what if the abductor - " she paused - "what if the abductor didn't want to hurt him, but keep him for a purpose?"

Rivers shifted slightly. "I think that needs to be discussed with our forensic psychologist."

* * *

Arthur slumped on the floor. He had no idea how long he'd been in the box for. There was no sense of time.

He swallowed. Fear was beginning to take hold of him again. He felt jittery, and scared. To his shock, tears were beginning to stream down his face. "Please!" He shouted, banging on the wall. "Let me out!"

Suddenly, a door opened. Arthur blinked. The door opened from the outside, giving the impression of no exit. Eames was standing there.

"Arthur," Eames said, pleasantly. "Are you ok?"

Arthur couldn't help it. Tears streaking his face, he threw himself at Eames, who enfolded him in his arms.

"Sssh," Eames said, rubbing his back. "Sssh, its allright, Arthur, I promise, it'll be allright."

"It was - it was-"

"What was it?"

Under their feet, the ground began to shake.

* * *

Arthur opened his eyes. He was lying on a bed, alone. There was no sign of the PASIV, or of Eames. Turning, he realised that he was back in his room. In a moment of panic, he got up and went to the door.

"Eames!" He shouted, banging on the door. "Where are you?"

The door opened, to reveal Eames standing on the other side. His face was a mask of concern.

"Arthur, what is it?" His tone was mild. "Why are you shouting?"

Arthur burst into tears. Eames responded by opening his arms, and pulling him into them. "Arthur, calm down, whats wrong?"

The younger man sobbed, almost hysterically. Eames responded by virtually carrying him to the bed, and lying him on it. Stretching out next to him, he gently stroked his cheek.

"What is it?"

"It was a dream," Arthur choked out. Eames gently stroked his cheek again.

"What happened?"

"I was locked in what felt like a box," Arthur stammered out, feeling a fresh wave of tears buliding up. "It was-"

"Frightening?" Eames suggested. Arthur nodded.

"Arthur," Eames said, kindly, "did anyone come to help you?"

"Yes." Arthur turned to him. "You did."

"I did?" Eames looked surprised. "Of course I would. Your precious to me, Arthur."

Arthur blinked. "Eames."

"Arthur. Be the Doll. Be the Doll for me. Forever."

* * *

Suddenly, Arthur's eyes flew open. He turned and gazed at the man lying next to him. A sudden surge of love and longing suffused him. He'd been alone in the dream, and frightened. Eames had come for him, and then, there had been that reunion.

He swallowed. Looking at Eames' form, he realised that curled up in his arms he'd feel safe, and protected. Wanted. He leaned over, and touched Eames' cheek.

"Eames," he whispered, "the Doll wants you."

**All reviews appreciated and read, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

"Is the Doll allright?"

Arthur stretched out on his lounger, letting the sun warm his face. Eames turned, and smiled at him.

"The Doll is fine," he murmured, letting his voice fade as he closed his eyes. He felt the gentle brush of Eames' fingers against his cheek, and sighed.

"Really? The Doll looks as though it needs to be fucked." Arthur's eyes opened and he smiled. "The Doll needs to go upstairs, to the playroom, and wait. It needs to strip itself naked, and lie there for its owner."

Arthur got up, and began to walk into the house. Eames lay back on his own lounger, and exhaled, slowly. His cellphone started ringing, and he picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Eames?"

"Cobb." Eames dropped his voice slightly. "What can I do for you?"

* * *

Cobb swallowed. He had been dreading making this call. But ever since Ariadne had insinuated to the police that Arthur could know his abductor, he knew she had been waiting for him to call him. He exhaled, slowly.

"I want you to answer a question. Do you have Arthur?"

Eames chuckled, softly. "No. I don't."

Cobb felt his irritation with the man start to rise. "Cut it out, Eames. He's been gone for over a month. They've been searching for a body, we've made appeals...and he's vanished. And from conversations we had in the past...he's just your type."

"Doesn't mean I took him."

"Then tell me this. Do you-" Cobb cursed as the phone went dead in his hand.

* * *

Arthur lay on his back, his legs open. Waiting.

He'd been in his role as the Doll for two weeks, or three - he couldn't remember. All he knew was that Eames cared for him, and loved him, and wouldn't let him go. He held Arthur in his arms at night, until he was told to go back to his toychest. At meal times, he insisted on feeding him with a spoon, claiming that he knew what was best for the Doll. "Not too much," Eames muttered. The portions he always let Arthur have were small, to the point where the younger man often felt weak with hunger, but he knew that asking Eames for more would result in him being ignored that night. Arthur never wanted Eames to ignore him.

Every day, there were gifts. New gifts, expensive gifts. Arthur smiled as he thought of the expensive silk boxers he was wearing, the designer suits in the closet, the cologne. Eames wouldn't permit him anything electronic, or the internet, but he'd started giving him books. Leather bound classics, that Arthur received gratefully.

"The doll can't be stupid," Eames had said, nuzzling his neck. "I need the Doll to impress people when they meet it."

Arthur stretched, and yawned. Suddenly, the door burst open, and Eames entered, a slightly ugly look on his face. Arthur shifted. That look could only mean one thing.

"I don't want to break the doll," Eames muttered, glaring at the younger man's almost naked body. "But I'm not going to be kind to it."

Arthur swallowed. Sometimes, the play was rough. He'd spent several nights in his bathroom, examining the bruising on his buttocks and legs. Eames never hit his face, or his torso, but below the waist...

"The doll needs to go on its front."

Arthur complied, feeling Eames' hands rub his back. Suddenly, the older man jumped on top, causing Arthur to moan slightly.

"My doll," Eames whispered, "so fragile, so breakable..." He began to kiss Arthur's shoulders and neck, leaving a dark marks. Arthur shivered, with anticipation and with fear. After a few minutes, he felt Eames enter him, and he groaned with pleasure.

"Perfect," Eames whispered. He kissed the back of Arthur's neck. "the Doll needs to go back to the toychest. Now."

Arthur got up, and picked up his boxers. Naked, he began to walk towards the door, letting Eames' eyes linger on his form as he disappeared.

* * *

"Well?" Ariadne asked, anxiously.

Cobb sighed, and turned to her. "Stonewall." He saw her lip tremble. "There's only one thing for it. I'll have to find Eames myself."

* * *

Arthur lay in his own bed, reading. He was permitted to read in bed, and in the morning. In the afternoon, he was left waiting for Eames. The older man often disappeared, not telling Arthur where he was going.

"The Doll doesn't need to worry its pretty, empty little head with details," he'd told him. "It wouldn't understand what I do." He looked at Arthur. "All the Doll needs to do is look good, and do as its told. And I will do anything for it. Protect it, love it. Thats all it needs to do. Does it understand?"

Arthur nodded.

"Because if it doesn't do as I say, it goes back to where it came from." Eames glared at Arthur. "Goes back to where no-one cared about it, or wanted it."

Arthur shivered. He didn't want to go back to where he came from. No-one had loved him, or even cared about him. Eames did. Suddenly, the door opened, and Eames entered.

"The doll needs to stand up."

Arthur did so, feeling uncertain. Suddenly, a black bag was pulled over his head.

"The doll is going for a little ride."

Arthur shivered, feeling shocked. Eames spoke again.

"The doll is going for a little ride." He ran his fingers up Arthur's spine. "But don't worry. It'll come back."

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur felt Eames' hands grab him, and push him into the back of a car. He swallowed - he'd been wrapped in his black silk robe, but his feet were bare. He'd winced as he'd been pushed down the path, feeling the sharp stones prod the soles of his feet.

The door slammed shut, and he felt uneasy as the car's engine purred into life. He swallowed, feeling the luxury of the leather sheets, and suddenly hearing the low growl of the car as Eames pushed on the acceleration.

"Where are you taking the Doll?" Arthur asked, feeling his nerves starting to break. Eames was silent, which always triggered a sense of fear.

"The doll should not worry," Eames said, as he steered the car away from the house. "The doll is going to undergo a test. If it passes, it will be fine."

Arthur felt himself shiver. Eames' tone was cold.

"A test?"

"Yes, a test." Eames narrowed his eyes as he observed the blindfolded figure in the back seat. "A test to see if the doll is capable of finding its own way home."

"Finding-" the words died in Arthur's throat.

"Yes." Eames tone was casual, even cruel. "If it doesn't, it'll die of exposure. Poor little doll."

* * *

"So, this man-" Rivers broke off, and looked at Cobb. "You're claiming someone you knew may have taken Mr Ogilvie?"

Cobb nodded. He could feel Ariadne's eyes boring into his neck. Swallowing, he adjusted his collar. "Yes, I think so."

"Mr Cobb." Rivers looked at him, searchingly. "Why didn't you tell us this before?"

Cobb swallowed, feeling a wave of shame wash over him. "Well, I-" he paused. "I didn't-" he swallowed. "I did wonder if-"

Cobb blinked, his eyes opening. Turning, he saw Ariadne lying next to him. He pushed himself up, and sat on the edge of the bed. Thoughts about Arthur were penetrating deeply into his mind; he knew he had to tell the police. He sank back onto the pillows, his mind whirling.

"Hmmm," Ariadne sighed, and turned over. He looked down at her, biting his lip. Rolling over, he hugged his pillow, closing his eyes.

* * *

Arthur felt the car stop. He blinked. Suddenly, the back door opened, and he felt himself being partially pulled, partially dragged out. He felt the metal around his wrists being unlocked. Suddenly, they were freed. He took a deep breath - and then found the bag being ripped off his head.

He blinked. He was standing in the woods. His eyes widening, he looked at Eames.

"A little test," Eames said, soothingly. "To see if the Doll wants to come back. If it finds its way home. If it does, it never leaves. But if it doesn't return, I'll just leave it out here." His eyes were like chips of grey ice. "I need to know if the doll loves me."

Arthur's eyes widened in fear and shock. "Eames! Don't leave the doll here!" his tone was pitiful, almost whining. "Please don't leave the doll here!"

Eames leaned his head to one side, surveying Arthur. "Poor little doll," he said, pityingly, then turned, leaving the younger man virtually naked aside from his robe and boxers. "Poor little doll," he tossed over his shoulder, and walked off.

* * *

Arthur stumbled. He'd been walking for what felt like hours. His feet were sore, and something had ripped a gash in his leg. He felt weak, tired, and defeated. He stumbled on, determined to find Eames.

* * *

"Mike? Whats that?"

"Hmmm?" a young man turned his eyes from the road to focus on his girlfriend. "What is it, honey?"

She swallowed, and pointed. "Look!"

He blinked in shock. A young man, wearing a shredded looking robe, his face streaked with dirt, was standing almost in the centre of the road. He pulled the car to a stop, and got out.

"Hey," he said, gently, "hey, are you allright?"

Arthur looked at him, panic in his eyes.

"The doll needs to go home!" he wailed. The other man blinked.

"I'm sorry," he said, his face creasing. "The doll? I don't-" he looked at Arthur again, whose face was a mask of fear. The woman got out of the car and approached him.

"Hey," she said, "come on, where do you need to go?"

Arthur looked at her, tears streaming down his face. "My toybox!" He practically sobbed. "The doll needs to go to its toybox!"

"Your toybox?" She looked astonished. "I'm sorry, but are you-" she turned to her partner. "Call an ambulance," she said, quietly. "I think he needs it. Look at how thin he is!"

The man looked at Arthur, and blanched. The open robe exposed a pale and bony chest, and his torso appeared shrunken. Tears were streaming down his face. Nodding, the man pulled out his cellphone.

"Definitely," he said, turning to make the call.

Arthur was crying almost hysterically. The young woman reached out to him, and he let her hold him close. "Sssh," she said, gently, "you'll be allright. What's your name, sweetheart?"

"The doll." Arthur choked it out amongst his tears. "Its the doll."

**All reviews appreciated, I like to know whose reading! Thank you!**


	33. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Carl Erskine rubbed his eyes, and sighed. He'd returned from routine patient observations to find his BlackBerry quickly filling up with messages. He slumped in his seat; this day had to finish soon.

Suddenly, he blinked. His pager was bleeping. He immediately clicked it.

_"Dr Erskine - please come to Emergency right away"._

* * *

_"I don't want to hurt you. But I need to know. Are you prepared to try and come back? I'll only leave you there a few hours, and then I'll come and get you. You'll be so frightened, so unhappy, so broken, you'll stay with me forever."_

* * *

Erskine ran down the corridor. He took one look at the shocked face of the nurse, and went into the emergency room. What he saw made his jaw drop.

A young man - pale, thin, and clearly distraught - having to be held down by two male nurses. Erskine blinked- all he could hear where Arthur's tormented screams.

"The doll needs to go! The doll needs to leave! The doll needs its owner!"

Erskine blinked. He'd never heard anything like this before. He walked into the emergency room, and looked at the two nurses. He spoke calmly, but firmly.

"Sedation," he said, finally. "30 mils."

* * *

Ariadne looked at Dom. "Its-" suddenly, she broke off. The shrill scream of the phone made them both jump.

* * *

"OK," Erskine looked at his two nurses, and junior doctor. They were assembled around the sleeping Arthur.

"The patient is a male, I would say 25-30, and clearly in a state of high mental distress and agitation. Sedation has been used." Erskine swallowed, and pushed a lock of jet black hair out of his eyes. He took a closer look at Arthur.

"He's underweight- I would say by a good 10 to 15lbs. Plus, there is extensive bruising on his buttocks, legs, and back." Erskine glanced at his colleagues before continuing. "I would say this is a clear indication of abuse."

"What about his comments?" A colleague ventured. "He refers to himself as 'the doll'."

Erskine bit his lip. "Highly bizarre, I will say. I would guess that this poor sap has been in some sort of abusive relationship." He shrugged, and turned. "GHet on the phone to Roberts - tell her to get down here as I need her psychiatric opinion."

The nurse nodded. "Will do."

Erskine leaned over. "We need to identify this guy. Who he is, where he's from."

One of the nurses spoke up. "Uh, Dr Erskine?"

"What is it, Mike."

"I recognise him." The nurse nodded towards Arthur. "He's the guy who went missing. His picture was on TV."

Erskine blinked. "Are you sure?"

The nurse nodded. "Pretty sure."

"Get on to the police." Erskine's voice was tight. "There might be someone we could call."

* * *

_"Where are you, darling? I left you here. Please don't tell me that you ran off...or tried to get yourself killed."_

* * *

"You're sure its him?" Cobb didn't trust his own voice - it sounded too high pitched. The nurse nodded.

"Yes, we've got a detective here now," she said, looking at him. "He's willing to speak to you."

Cobb nodded. "OK, can you show him to us?"

The nurse nodded, and Cobb and Ariadne followed her into Arthur's room. What they saw shocked them.

Arthur was pale, aside from the dark circles under his eyes, and the locks of dark hair falling across his forehead. Cobb shivered as he saw how thin the younger man was - his formerly lean, muscular frame appeared to have withered away. He turned to Erskine.

"Anything else?"

Erskine swallowed. "He has bruising on his legs, and buttocks. I would say they are consistent with violent sex."

Cobb swallowed, a growing anger mounting inside him. "Who found him?"

Erskine bit his lip. "A young couple. They found him wandering in the road, poor thing."

Suddenly, Cobb noticed Arthur's eyelids flickering. He swallowed. "Arthur?"

Arthur's eyes were beginning to open. He blinked. Cobb leaned over. "Arthur? Hey, Art. Can you hear me?"

Arthur looked at Cobb, fearfully. He swallowed. "Where's the doll's owner?" it came out as a pitiful whine.

Cobb swallowed. "Arthur, you're Arthur. Not the doll."

Tears began to stream down Arthur's face. "The doll wants its owner! The doll wants its owner!" he began to sob. Cobb stepped back, completely bewildered.

"Arthur, please, you're-" he stopped as Erskine moved forward, and began to usher him out. His own eyes filling with tears of frustration, Cobb allowed himself to be walked into the corridor.

"What is it?" he asked, completely bewildered.

"We're going to keep him in for observation," Erskine said, gently. "He needs it. We're very concerned about his low body weight, and the bruising."

"But what he says!" Cobb said, his voice becoming frustrated. "Referring to himself as the doll!"

"Psychiatric will be assisting with that," Erskine nodded. "I'd go home and get some sleep. We'll take care of him."

* * *

_Have you been found? Have you been discovered? Oh, no, my poor little doll. It'll be frightened and bewildered with strangers. Who is going to look after it? Put it to bed at night, keep it safe?_

_I will find it. And keep it. Forever. _

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Cobb unlocked the front door of his apartment, and swallowed. He heard a rustling noise, and realised Ariadne was already there.

"Did they- how is he?" she asked. Cobb could see her fear in her eyes. He took her hands.

"Well, they found him," he said, taking a deep breath. "He's not in great shape."

She sucked her breath in. "How do you mean?"

Cobb rubbed his forehead. "He's in bad shape."

"How bad?" Ariadne's tone was insistent. "How bad, Cobb?"

He looked at her. "It looks as though Eames has starved him, bruised him-" he looked at Ariadne and shook his head. "Poor guy." He looked at her. "I have no idea what to do." He walked to the liquor cabinet, and poured himself a scotch. "I have an idea, but..." his voice trailed off.

Ariadne walked forward. "Dom." She took a deep breath. "You need to be more honest with the police about Eames. You need to tell them exactly what happened."

"If I do, it..." his voice trailed off. He took a swallow of the amber liquid. He looked at her. "Ariadne, I know that this is partially my fault, I know I should have-"

His voice quivered and sinking on to the seat, he began to sob. Ariadne simply moved to his side, and pulled him close.

* * *

"Arthur, can you hear me?"

Fran Roberts stood and frowned as she surveyed the young man lying on the bed. He was completely unresponsive, his dark eyes huge in his thin face. Swallowing, she leaned over, and spoke gently.

"Arthur, you're safe. We will let you go, when we can get you back to better health. But if you can hear me, nod."

Nothing.

The brunette psychiatrist bit her lip. She suddenly remembered the conversation she'd had with Erskine, about how Arthur referred to himself.

"Can The Doll hear me?"

The reaction was immediate. Arthur blinked, and looked at her. She took a deep breath, and continued.

"What does the Doll want?"

Arthur's response was short.

"The doll needs its toybox. The doll needs its owner. The doll needs its toybox, the doll needs its owner!"

Fran blinked. "What do you mean?"

"The toybox!" Arthur was practically screaming, his face turning an angry shade of dull red. "The doll needs its toybox! The doll lives there! The doll needs its owner! Its owner takes care of it!"

Stunned, Fran backed away. Turning, she left, and hurried to find Erskine.

* * *

_"I will find my doll. I know it'll be in the hospital. They'll run tests on it, try and save it...you can't save whats been broken beyond repair. Arthur didn't exist before. He will never exist again. All thats left is the doll. I love it. Its not wrong to love something when it loves you back."_

* * *

Erskine studied Arthur. He'd calmed down from his earlier rage, but he could tell from his distorted breathing that he was agitated. He sat at the side of the bed.

"Arthur," he said.

No response.

Erskine took a deep breath, remembering what Fran Roberts had told him. He tried a different approach.

"The doll," he said hesitantly, "needs to get well."

Arthur turned his head and looked at him, his eyes narrowing. His wrists, which were restrained, showed the sinews tensing as he flexed his hands.

"We're going to put the doll on a special nutritional plan," Erskine continued, hating that he was colluding in his patient's seeming delusion. "The doll needs to recover, as its currently underweight-"

Arthur's eyes widened in horror. "No!"

"What is it?" Erskine asked, deciding to abandon any pretence at understanding. "What is it, Arthur?"

Arthur's eyes were wide and horror struck. "The doll can't get fat! You can't fatten up the doll!"

"Arthur," Erskine said, his voice calm, "we're not trying to fatten you up, we're simply trying to-"

"You're trying to fatten up the doll!" Arthur shrieked. "Let the doll go!"

"Art-"

"If the doll gets fat, the owner won't want it!" Tears were beginning to stream down Arthur's face. "You can't make the doll fat, you can't!"

Shocked, Erskine got up and hurried out of the room. "Time for a referral to psychiatric," he muttered under his breath.

* * *

"So you think he's-" Cobb swallowed, and listened to Erskine. "OK, thank you."

He hung up, and wandered into the kitchen. Ariadne looked at him, whilst drying a dish. "What did they say?"

Cobb slumped into a chair, and rubbed his forehead. "They're referring him to psychiatric." He took a swallow of coffee. "He apparently had a breakdown, screaming at the doctor how they couldn't fatten him up." He shook his head. "Christ knows what Eames has done to him."

"So what are you going to do?"

Cobb bit his lip. "I'm going to have to try an extraction. Its the only way."

* * *

****_"I am coming to get you. I won't let them hurt my poor little doll. I am going to get you. And I will kill anyone who stands in my way."_

**All reviews appreciated, I like to know whose reading! Thank you!**


	35. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

"OK, if you could just open your mouth for me...thats right."

Arthur sat, silently, as he allowed oatmeal to be spooned into his mouth. He barely blinked. The nurse swallowed, and wiped a spot off his chin.

"Thats great. And another...?"

Arthur opened his mouth again, silently letting the porridge swill around his mouth. The nurse smiled. "Thats great, Arthur, really-"

She screamed as he spat it back into her face.

* * *

Eames walked into the master bedroom, and smiled to himself as he pulled out a drawer. Reaching inside, he took out a gun. As he carefully polished it, he gripped the edge of the drawer.

_I am coming for my doll. Poor little thing._

* * *

"Arthur." Erskine stood at the end of the bed, trying to keep his face composed. "Arthur, you do not spit at the nurses. Do you understand me?"

Arthur gazed at the older man, his expression dispassionate. Erskine bit back his fury.

"Arthur, whilst-" he paused, noting that his words were having no impact. He changed his tack.

"The doll will not spit at the nurses. The doll will behave itself in the hospital. Does the doll understand?"

Blinking, Arthur nodded.

"Good," Erskine commented. Turning, he left the room.

* * *

Cobb leaned back into his seat, and studied the psychiatrist. Fran Roberts did not break his gaze.

"So what is your diagnosis?" Cobb's voice held an element of frustration.

She looked at him. "Well, its as though Arthur has disappeared into another persona. The Doll."

Cobb nodded. "I see that. How can you help him?"

"Well, the only way-" she swallowed, and paused. "The only way is to try and discover where the idea came from."

Cobb sat bolt upright, and looked at her. "You mean, you think the idea was planted in his mind?"

She looked at him. "Thats exactly what I mean." She nodded.

Cobb felt his heart begin to pound. "Well, there is clearly something-"

"Something in Arthur's psychological make up that would allow this to happen. We need to discover what it is."

Cobb was silent. "Such as?"

"People disappear into alternative personas when there is something in their life they are unhappy with. Perhaps Arthur feels dissatisfied with his life, or maybe he feels lonely."

Cobb looked at her. "Lonely." He got up. "Thank you, doctor. Thank you."

* * *

Eames smiled at the receptionist. She looked at him. "May I help you?"

"Oh, I do hope so," he replied, smoothly. "I'm here to speak to oncology - I'm a journalist who is researching a story on cancer research."

She looked at him. "One moment, please." Getting up, she moved away from her desk. Taking his chance, Eames hurried away, determined to begin looking into every ward room.

_The doll is here. I know its here. _

* * *

Cobb stepped outside the hospital, his head swimming.

"An inception," he muttered, under his breath. He leaned his head against the wall, remembering a conversation he'd once had with Eames.

"If you're going to perform an inception," the Forger had told him, "you need imagination. Its a very subtle art."

Cobb blinked. Suddenly, a feeling of terror was unfolding in his chest. Turning, he hurried back inside the hospital.

* * *

Eames looked inside another room. Feeling frustrated, he swore under his breath. Then, he heard a voice.

"The doll doesn't want it!"

A smile began to curve his lips. Scanning the room, he noticed an office door, open. Hurrying inside it, he slipped on a white coat that was hanging off the peg. He then walked, authoratively, into the room. Arthur's face immediately lit up when he saw him. The male nurse stepped back, looking frustrated.

"Whats the problem?"

"Oh, its simple. Arthur won't eat." The nurse shook his head. "He complains we're trying to fatten him up, he can't get fat..." he glared at Arthur. "They should put him in psychiatric with the rest of the nutjobs."

Eames shook his head. "Not very professional, nurse." The younger man slunk out of the room, muttering. Eames sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Arthur's hair. He smiled.

"Does the Doll want to come back to its toybox?"

Arthur nodded.

"Are they treating the Doll well?"

Arthur shook his head.

"Very well. Time for the Doll to leave." Eames stood up, and opened a bag he'd been carrying. Arthur's face changed as he saw it contained a suit, and shirt, with shoes.

"The Doll needs to get dressed."

Eames closed the door, waiting for Arthur to dress himself. When he was covered, he nodded, and still wearing the white coat, opened the door. Satisfied the corridor was clear, he began to walk with Arthur down the hallway. He took Arthur's arm.

"The doll is going to its toybox. The doll will be pampered and loved."

Arthur smiled again. Eames began to walk through the lobby, still gently holding the younger man's arm. They entered the car park, and Eames unlocked the door of his porsche.

"The doll can get in."

Arthur complied. Eames opened the driver's seat, and locked the doors. Starting the engine, he began to pull out.

* * *

Cobb walked back through the lobby. He felt dejected, and afraid. Arthur's room, he'd noted, was empty. Standing at the entrance, he idly scanned the cars, noting a Porsche that was pulling out of its space.

Suddenly, he jolted, and ran. The car was only two rows away from him, and he began to wave his arms. "HEY!"

* * *

Eames gazed out of the window, and noticed Cobb. A smile curved his lips, and he looked at Arthur. "The doll will be fine." Arthur nodded.

"hey!" Cobb banged on the window. "Eames! Open-"

He paused. Eames was pointing a gun at him. Straight at his face.

"Walk away," the Forger said, smoothly. Stunned, Cobb took a step back, watching as the Forger drove, with Arthur sitting compliantly in the passenger seat.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	36. Chapter 36

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur sighed as the car moved forward. Eames turned his head, and cast a glance at him.

"Oh, my poor little doll," he murmured. "Poor little doll. I'll look after it, I promise."

Arthur closed his eyes, letting sleep roll over him in a tidal wave.

* * *

Cobb stood in the lobby, of the hotel, feeling stunned.

"Did that just happen?" he murmured to himself. Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he began to walk across the car park to his own vehicle, his thoughts in turmoil. Barely noticing anything, he got in his car, and just sat, the keys dangling from the ignition.

He rubbed his forehead. His desire to help Arthur was overwhelming. He knew he had to. But Eames...

He blinked, and turned the keys, a determined expression forming across his features. Suddenly, he knew what he had to do.

* * *

Eames drew back the covers, and helped Arthur into bed. The younger man laid back on the sheets, and closed his eyes.

"I need to look after the doll," Eames muttered, stroking Arthur's cheek. "If anything happens to it..."

Arthur felt himself drift into sleep. He didn't even notice when Eames left, shutting the door.

* * *

Cobb swallowed, and unlocked the trunk. He never let anyone near this, not even Ariadne. As he opened it, a rush of nostalgia overtook him. He could see the photographs, and the blueprints. He began to lift them out, gently wiping the dust of.

Him, Eames, and Nash. Standing together, happily.

And just to the side, Arthur.

* * *

Arthur blinked. A gentle tapping was causing him to stir. He began to sit up, struggling slightly under the heavy covers. His eyes widened. Eames was walking in, carrying a tray. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he smiled at Arthur.

"How is the doll feeling?"

Arthur swallowed. "The doll feels tired." He twitched his legs, and Eames leaned over, and began to rub it. "Poor little doll."

The younger man began to settle under the covers. Eames leaned over, offering the tray. Putting his spoon into the soup, he began to lift it up, and held it to Arthur's mouth.

"I need to look after my doll," Eames said, calmly, watching as Arthur opened his mouth and let him place the spoon in it. The older man smiled. "Good little doll."

Arthur nodded. Obediently, he opened his mouth for a second time.

* * *

Cobb gripped the edge of the photo. The former Point Man was unsmiling in the picture, his expression tense, and worried. Cobb sat on the edge of the bed, his mind whirling.

He'd grown increasingly concerned for Arthur regarding Eames. The Forger was predatory, Cobb had known that. But when he'd begun talking about creating the Perfect Doll, it had increased Cobb's nervousness. He vividly remembered a conversation that they'd had.

"Don't you think he'd be perfect?" Eames had asked, idly, looking at the Point Man as he fiddled with the PASIV.

Cobb had given Eames a sharp look. "Eames. No."

"No what?" Eames had asked innocently, turning to smile at the younger man as he'd approached with the IV. Cobb had watched as the plastic tubing had slid into the Forger's arm. He'd also noticed the way Eames' hand had snaked up Arthur's wrist.

"Thank you, darling."

Arthur had looked irritated. "Just doing my job." Cobb had bitten his lip as he'd watched the younger man turn and walk away.

Blinking, Cobb brought himself back to the present. Incepting Arthur had been surprisingly easy. He'd merely implanted the idea that what he desired was a normal life, one with a steady job, and regular income. He'd then taken a job himself, as Arthur's director. By keeping careful tabs on what he said, and actively encouraging Arthur into a solitary lifestyle, one in which he had little to do with anyone. He'd carefully formed a friendship with him, and also with Ariadne.

Arthur had never given any indication he remembered the extractions he'd done. Cobb swallowed. He'd violated his best friend's mind, to protect him from Eames. But Eames had found him. He had known he would always find him, but what he was doing...

"I will create the doll," Eames had muttered one night. They were in a bar in Mombasa, having completed a job. Arthur had flown back to the States.

"Leave it." Cobb had eyed the Forger, suspiciously.

"Arthur would be so very, very lovely," Eames had crooned. "That body, that mind, those eyes..." he looked at Cobb. "And he'd be under my spell..."

Cobb couldn't contain himself any longer. "He won't be, Eames. Trust me."

Eames' eyes had glittered as he'd brought a glass to his lips. "Oh really? And what are you going to do?"

Cobb looked at Eames. "I can make him forget you. And me. Create a new life."

Eames raised an eyebrow. "Funny. Thats exactly what I'm planning to do."

Cobb gripped his glass. "Do I need to protect Arthur from you, Eames? Because I will if I have to."

Eames looked at the Extractor. "Oh, save it. Poor little Arthur will never thank you. Because all he'll eventually have is me."

* * *

"There. Finished."

Arthur let Eames wipe his mouth for him. He felt too drained and exhausted to say anything. Eames began to stroke his cheek.

"Poor little doll. I've changed my mind, it needs fattening up a little. I'll be back again later."

Arthur nodded. Eames got up and began to walk to the door. Suddenly, he turned.

"Does the doll remember anything at all?"

Stunned, Arthur shook his head. Eames looked at him.

"Does the doll remember what it was?"

Again, Arthur shook his head.

"The doll has no memory?"

Tears were beginning to snake down Arthur's face. Eames smiled, satisfaction lacing the edges.

"Good." He looked at Arthur. "The doll is nothing but the doll." Turning, he opened the door, and left.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	37. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Eames leaned over and stroked Arthur's cheek. He smiled to himself. The younger man had slept for nearly nine hours. He leaned back, satisfied, content to watch him sleep.

He blinked, remembering a conversation from time before. It felt like a lifetime ago - him, Arthur, Cobb, and Nash. They'd finished a job in Tokyo, and the client had insisted on taking them out for a meal. Arthur, he remembered, had barely eaten anything.

"You need to look after yourself," Cobb had told him, an element of near scolding in his voice. "You're important to the team!"

"Well, I'm just not that hungry," Arthur had protested. "When you only have yourself to look after, you don't always bother!"

Eames' eyebrows had raised at this, and leaning forward, smiled. "You should eat," he said, his voice soothing. "Come on."

To the shock of everyone at the table, he leaned over, and scooped up a forkful of Arthur's sushi. Locking his gaze with Arthur's, he raised it to his mouth.

"Come on."

Arthur had looked at him, shocked. Cobb, furious, glared at Eames. "That's enough!"

Eames had put the fork down. "I'm only trying to look after Arthur-"

"I don't need looking after!" Arthur had snapped, pushing his chair back, with complete disregard for the setting and the client. "Leave me alone!"

He'd got up, and stormed away from the table, throwing his napkin to the floor. Cobb had tried to apologise to the client, who had looked bewildered. He then turned to Eames.

"You need to apologise!"

Eames leaned back in his seat. "I'm only trying to help."

Cobb took a gulp of wine. "Then I suggest you try again."

* * *

Eames had gone to Arthur's hotel room that night, and knocked. The younger man had opened the door, his face flushed when he saw his visitor.

"What do you want?"

"To apologise," Eames replied, smoothly, stepping into the room. He looked at the younger man. "I do want to try and smooth things over."

Arthur glared at him. "Not interested. Now, please. I have a stack of work to do." he pointed his thumb in the direction of several files. Eames looked over, and arched an eyebrow.

"You're going to be spending the evening reading? How dull." There was a taunt in his voice. "Wouldn't you rather spend it with me?"

The Point Man raised an eyebrow. "I'd rather spend it alone. Now, please. There's the door, use it."

"You're very impolite, Arthur," Eames said, his voice smooth. "Very impolite. You shouldn't be so unpleasant to me. I care about you."

Arthur turned his back to him. "Leave, Eames. Now."

Eames walked up behind the younger man, and began to speak more softly. "Arthur, I wouldn't be like that. No-one else cares about you at all. Not even Cobb. One day, you'll discover how much I care. How I will never let you go."

Arthur turned, his face a dull red with anger. "You really think you'll have me? Never, Eames. Never. Now, please leave."

Eames smirked, and turned to walk out. As he left, he turned back to Arthur. "Never, Arthur? Forever. Trust me."

* * *

Arthur blinked, and began to stretch. He looked around - he was back, in the room he'd been given. His eyes wandered over the delicately patterned wallpaper, and the solid looking furniture. He began to exhale with relief - the hospital had been terrifying. He buried himself under the thick covers - he never wanted to leave again.

Suddenly, the door handle began to turn. He looked up. Eames entered, smiling.

"Oh, the doll's awake!"

Arthur nodded, and Eames sat on the edge of the bed. He opened his arms. Without pausing, Arthur began to bury himself in them, letting the larger man enfold him.

"Oh, the Doll doesn't need to fret," Eames said, stroking Arthur's back. "I'm never letting it go."

Arthur smiled and buried deeper. Eames looked around.

"Listen," he said, his voice soothing, "I'm going to be removing its books. They'll simply confuse it, and it doesn't need thoughts cluttering its pretty little head. The Doll doesn't need to think. All it needs to do is everything its told. Does it understand?"

Arthur nodded.

"Good," Eames breathed, stroking his back. "The doll just exists. Its just here for my pleasure. Understand?"

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated. I like to know who is reading this - thank you!**


	38. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me**

Arthur blinked. Eames was standing over him.

"The Doll needs to get up, get dressed, and come downstairs. Its to do this in one hour. Does it understand?"

Arthur nodded.

"Excellent. Oh, and the Doll isn't to speak. I've decided that the sound of its voice is unnecessary. From now on, its only to nod, or shake its head. The doll doesn't need to communicate, because it already does everything its told."

Arthur nodded again.

"Good. I will see you in one hour."

* * *

Ariadne sat in the Coffee Bean, and smiled as she saw Cobb approach. He looked tired, and she noticed the crease between his eyes was deeper than the previous day. She swallowed and held out her hand.

"Come here," she said, softly. Nodding, Cobb wrapped his fingers around hers, and sat down.

"I ordered you a cappuccino," she said, gently. "Listen, Dom, if you need to-"

"Ari, I need to talk to you," he said, almost abruptly. "There are things I need to tell you. About me, about Arthur, and about Eames. But we can't do it here."

She blinked. "Dom-"

"Ari, you're not going to like this." His fingers tightened around hers, and he lowered his voice, it becoming more charged with urgency. "If you want to break up with me after this, thats fine, I accept it. But I need to tell you."

She looked down into the dregs of her latte. "Dom. We can work through it, I know we can."

He nodded. "I hope so."

* * *

Arthur walked down the stairs. He was wearing a dark grey suit, with his hair freshly gelled back. He noticed, as he put the suit on, that it was hanging slightly loosely. He swallowed, knowing he couldn't speak.

_Eames loves the doll, _he told himself in his mind. _Eames knows whats best for it._

He walked into the dining room, and stood, blinking.

Another man was seated at the table. Tall, pale, and with icy blue eyes, they glinted as he looked at Arthur. Smiling, he raised a glass.

"Well, well," he said. His voice was soft, with an accent that Arthur couldn't place. "This is the doll, right?"

"Thats it," Eames said, leaning back in his seat. "This is the doll. As you can see Robert, its completely mindless. It doesn't think. It doesn't speak. All it does is what I tell it."

The other man leaned back, and smiled. "Perfect. Mind if I borrow it?"

Eames smiled. "I'd love for you to have it, just so you can see how wonderful it is, but I'm afraid not." He looked at Arthur. "Its my property, and I don't like sharing. Its mine, end of story."

The other man leaned back. "Have you noticed how its been standing there, not saying anything?"

"Its not permitted to speak." Eames patted his thigh. "Come here."

Arthur did so.

"Sit on my lap." Eames' tone was brusque. "Sit on my lap, now."

Arthur did so. Eames began to stroke his cheek.

"Listen, Robert," Eames continued, "I need to feed it. it can't speak, and its not going to feed itself anymore either. I need to know exactly what it puts in its mouth."

He leaned over, and pulled the cover of a plate. Lifting a fork, he picked up some of the vegetables on the plate, and brought the fork to Arthur's mouth. "Open."

Arthur did so, obediently letting Eames put the vegetables in. He began to chew, and swallowed. Eames nodded.

"Good. Let's try again. It needs to eat."

Robert smiled as he sipped its wine. "Do you wash it?"

Eames shrugged. "I will be. Then I'll be dressing it. I won't do anything else...it can still do _that_ for itself."

Arthur blinked.

"Does it understand?" Robert whispered.

"Oh, I think it does," Eames replied, casually, "but it can't respond. If it upsets me, I'll just leave it out in the woods."

Robert blanched slightly. "But, Eames, that means it-"

"The poor little doll will die." Eames smiled, and began to stroke Arthur's cheek. "It won't upset me, because it knows that I look after it. Now, I need to finish feeding it, then I take it upstairs, and tonight, its in the playroom. Tomorrow, it stays in its toybox until I fetch it. Does it understand?"

Arthur nodded.

"Good." Eames picked up another forkful of food. "Open."

* * *

****Ariadne swallowed, as she looked at Dom. Her jaw was hanging slightly open.

"I can't believe this," she almost whispered. "You did that - to Arthur?"

Cobb nodded. "I did. Ari-"

She got up. "Dom, this is it." Her voice was cold. "You did that to your best friend, to protect him? You practically gift wrapped him for that - that maniac!"

She stalked out, slamming the door behind her. Cobb slumped in his seat, defeated.

**All reviews appreciated, I like to know whose reading! Thank you!**


	39. Chapter 39

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur perched on the edge of the bed. He was listening for Eames.

The evening had progressed, with Robert increasingly smiling at Arthur. He'd felt Eames stroke the back of his neck with increasing aggression. He'd swallowed.

"The doll loves Eames," Eames had said, smiling. "I know it does."

Eventually, Robert had left. Arthur was sitting on the bed, waiting to see if Eames was going to appear. Suddenly, the door opened, and his face lit up. Eames entered, smiling. He walked over to the bed, and sat on it.

"Come here."

Arthur complied, allowing himself to be pulled into Eames' lap. Eames stroked the back of his head, and neck. "My little doll," he crooned. Then he pulled away, and looked at Arthur.

"It needs to put its thumb in its mouth."

Arthur blinked, but complied. Eames continued to stroke the back of his head, and nuzzled his neck. "Sweet little doll," he whispered. "I love my little doll. Its so delicate, so weak...such a little slut."

He looked at Arthur, who was still calmly sucking his thumb. Suddenly, Eames gave him a push. A push that sent Arthur of his lap, straight onto the floor. Eames stood up, and glared.

"The doll only loves Eames," he said, menacingly, moving towards Arthur. "It doesn't look at anyone else!"

Arthur pulled his thumb out of his mouth. His eyes were hurt, and frightened. Eames ignored him, and continued to move forwards.

"The doll doesn't look at anyone else." Eames repeated. "The doll only does what its told!" He reached over, and grabbed Arthur's arm. "Does it know what I'm going to do? Im going to make sure that pretty little face isn't pretty any longer!"

* * *

Ariadne swallowed. Cobb was knocking on the door. Feeling a wave of irritation bubble up, and then fade, she unlocked the door, and faced him.

"Hi," she said, tentatively. "Are we-"

He pulled her close, and hugged her. "Are we still-"

She pushed him away. "Dom, yes. But I'm still angry with you. For what you did. For what you've done. How could you go into his mind like that, try and blank it out?"

Cobb looked at her. "I can't take back what I did." He shook his head, rubbing his forehead. "But what I can do is try and help Arthur."

"How?"

"Well, I need to find Eames." Cobb sat down, and looked at her. "Really find him. He's in the area, then I need to find Arthur."

"And what are you going to do?"

"The only thing I can do." Cobb looked at her. "Extraction."

* * *

Eames pushed Arthur down on the bed. "I'm so sick of that pretty little face." He practically hissed out the words. "Its never done anything but taunt me! Christ, I hate you! I HATE YOU!"

* * *

"Will it work?"

"It has to." Cobb got up, and began to pace restlessly. "It just has to."

* * *

Arthur was pulled roughly to his feet. "Come on," Eames said, coldly, "Its going somewhere safe! Somewhere where you can't be tempted by anyone or anything!"

Arthur opened his mouth, the words coming out as a wail. "The doll doesn't want to be hurt."

"It won't be," Eames almost snarled. "Its going where its going to learn to behave!"

Arthur was pulled along the corridor, and shoved roughly into Eames' room. "It needs to get into bed."

Arthur did so, Eames' eyes narrowing as he observed him shaking. As Arthur crawled in between the sheets, Eames got in, and wrapped his arms around him.

"The doll is mine," he whispered. "And if it doesn't want to be frightened, it has to do as its told."

Arthur trembled. Eames squeezed him harder.

"Oh, it musn't be scared." He kissed the back of Arthur's neck. "It reminds me of when-"

He stopped, abruptly, and loosened his grip. With another shove, he gave Arthur a push.

"Go on," he snapped, "sleep on the floor!"

Arthur crawled out of the bed, and obediently curled up. Eames turned over, pulling the covers over himself. Arthur lay frozen, his naked flesh brutally exposed on the thick carpet.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	40. Chapter 40

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur shivered. The thick carpet did nothing to keep him warm, and he felt the coldness creeping over his skin. Swallowing, he turned over, and began to get up.

Eames was lying with his back to him. Suddenly, he felt a tug on the bedclothes. He turned, his eyes widening slightly. "What does the doll want?" his voice was gentler than it had been. "Does the doll want to get into bed?"

Arthur nodded. Eames threw back the covers. "The doll needs to get in."

Arthur did so, and Eames opened his arms. "Come here," he whispered, letting Arthur cuddle up to his chest. He enfolded his arms, letting the slender man rest his head near his shoulder. As he held him close, his mind began to drift.

* * *

Arthur had lingered over his work one evening. Eames, determined, had waited. Timing it perfectly, he'd hidden himself in the shadows of the building, waiting for Arthur to leave.

Finally, his patience was rewarded. He saw Arthur close his laptop, and begin to move down the stairs. Staying concealed, the Forger watched as the slender man hurried down the street. He began to follow him.

First stop, a grocery store. Eames watched as Arthur grabbed a bag of salad, and a bottle of red wine.

_Not very healthy. I need to take better care of you. _

The Point Man left, and continued to walk. Eames watched as hurried. Eventually, he reached the entrance of an apartment block. Tall, brown cinder. As Arthur disappeared inside, the Forger didn't hesitate. He kept a distance, then watched as Arthur hit the elevator button.

Fourth floor.

As the metal doors slid closed, Eames took the second lift. He knew how he could find him. As he stepped out, he heard a door closing, he turned.

Far end of the hallway.

He walked, came to a door, and knocked. A young woman answered.

"Oh, hello," he said, smiling. "I'm looking for Arthur Ogilvie, I believe he lives on this-"

She smiled back. "No 436."

"Thank you," Eames commented, turning before the door had even shut. He hurried to 436, and knocked on the door.

"One moment!" he heard Arthur call out. Eames smiled, casually, as the door opened. Arthur, when seeing who was there, stared in shock.

"Thank you, I will come in," Eames said, boldly, walking straight past the younger man. Arthur turned to stare after him, his jaw slackening slightly. "Nice place," Eames said, taking in the tasteful, modern decor. "Of course, it reflects a man who isn't loved, but-"

Arthur's jaw tightened. "Get out."

"How rude," Eames said, facing him. "I've come over here-"

"Why have you come over here?" Arthur interrupted, his dark eyes blazing. "It isn't at my invitation, I can assure you! Please, just go!"

"You need someone to look after you," Eames commented, sweeping into the kitchen, taking account of a glass of red wine, and a plate covered with salad. "This all you're having? No wonder you're such a twig. I do like men to have some more flesh on them, not that I'd want you to get fat, as thats not attractive, either."

Arthur's jaw tightened. "Who do you think you are?"

"Someone who cares," Eames said softly, and grabbing Arthur's jaw, pulled him into a kiss. He felt Arthur's hand curl up his face, then turn into a stinging slap.

"Get away from me," Arthur said, practically spitting out the words. "Don't come near me!"

Eames raised his eyebrows. "Fine. But remember, Arthur - one day, I will have you in my bed. And you won't want to leave it. I promise you."

Arthur shook his head. "No Eames. You think you can have someone you can control? I suggest you get yourself a doll."

* * *

****Eames kissed the top of Arthur's head. "And I do have a doll. A little doll, that is loved and wanted, but it can't help but displease me at times." He rubbed Arthur's side, and Arthur murmured contentedly.

"I shouldn't be so harsh on it," Eames mumbled. "I really shouldn't. And I need to feed it more - its hip bones are digging in. I don't want that. I need to look after my doll. And if it ever wonders why its like this...it brought it on itself."

**All reviews appreciated, I like to know whose reading! Thank you!**


	41. Chapter 41

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Eames turned over, looking at the dark haired man who lay sleeping beside him. He smiled, and rolling onto his back, looked up at the ceiling.

"Almost time," he murmured. "When you've done this, I'll let you go. Go to the mental asylum, which is where you, and your obsessive, compulsive behaviour, have always belonged!"

Smiling, he turned his back to Arthur. Closing his eyes, he drifted back into sleep.

* * *

"Its too dangerous. No."

"But, Arthur-" Cobb swallowed, his face tightening slightly. "Thats what we do. Its extraction."

"Yes, but extracting thoughts is one thing." The Point Man pushed his hair back, and looked at Cobb. "This is actual physical theft. Do you want to go through with this?"

"My designs will hold up," Nash chipped in. The scrawny architect was in the far corner of the room, his lank hair hanging in ragged curtains around his face. "We'll be able to do it, Arthur, I promise."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He shook his head. "I doubt it. The last dream you built you left out a few little details. And that was for a straight forward job!"

Nash flushed angrily, and Eames spoke. "Arthur, that was uncalled for."

"Don't tell me what to say," Arthur said, shortly, his eyes beginning to flash. "You've got no right."

"I have the right to say what I think," Eames said, calmly. "And you really don't need to be rude, darling."

Arthur looked at him, his eyes burning with rage. "Don't talk to me like that, Eames! Don't talk to me!"

Turning, he stormed out of the room. Cobb turned to Eames angrily. "Well-"

"I'll deal with him," the Forger said, calmly, and followed the Point Man.

* * *

Cobb turned over in bed, and sighed. Ariadne was still asleep, and he decided not to wake her. Getting up, he padded softly into the kitchen. As he hunted for items to make coffee, a montage of images began to cross his mind.

Incepting Arthur had not been easy. Cobb had accepted the Point Man's mind would be far less vulnerable to planting ideas than most. But, he'd eventually cornered him. Gone to his apartment, slipped a large amount of sedative into wine. Waited until he'd slept. Then, he'd brought out the PASIV.

As he'd entered the Point Man's mind, he'd lost all trace of doubt. He'd seen. He knew what Eames was capable of.

* * *

Arthur had walked into the backroom of the warehouse, feeling himself pulse with rage. As he gripped the desk, he closed his eyes, trying to contain his temper.

Suddenly, hands were snaking around his back, and up his chest. He blinked, and turned.

Eames. Whose hands were now moving to his waist. Pulling him closer, tighter. Arthur blinked, and moving, tried to pull away from the larger man, only to suddenly find himself pulled forward in a deep kiss. Eames gently stroked the side of his face, caressing his chin.

Suddenly, Arthur pushed him away. "What do you think you're doing?"

Eames smiled, a slightly twisted one. "I'm kissing you. Kissing you in a way you've probably never been. Is that blood in your veins, or is it sour milk? Its so hard to tell."

Arthur looked at him, speechless with anger and shock. Eames took a step closer, and began fingering his shirt.

"I need to take you out for dinner," he whispered. "Wine and dine you. Then take you back to my place." He looked at Arthur, and smiled. "Of course, the things I want to do, you probably wouldn't approve of. Has anyone ever really loved you, Arthur? Have you ever really let yourself be touched by anyone?"

"Get away from me."

"You are such a child, Arthur," Eames said, whispering into the other man's ear. "So lonely. So in need of someone to love-"

"You're repulsive," Arthur hissed at Eames. "What am I going to find next? A valentine's card with a skewer through the heart?"

Eames raised an eyebrow. "Remember when you said I should get myself a doll, Arthur?" he looked at him.

Arthur turned. "I'm beginning to think you're insane." As he walked away, Eames smiled.

Turning, Eames face froze. Cobb was standing in the doorway, his jaw open. Brushing past him, Eames casually walked through the warehouse and onto the street.

* * *

Eames blinked. Arthur was stirring slightly. He turned, and looked. The younger man's eyelids were fluttering, and Eames smiled.

"Is it awake?"

Arthur nodded, and smiled at Eames, sleepily. Eames opened his arms.

"It shall come here."

Arthur did so, burrowing against Eames' chest. The older man smiled, and tightened his grip.

"The doll will do something for me." He smiled, cruelly. "The doll will regret it ever rejected me at first."

To his delight, Arthur nodded, dumbly. Pulling the younger man tighter, Eames smiled to himself.

**reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	42. Chapter 42

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Cobb bit his lip. Memories were flooding back, uncomfortable ones, causing his mind to become restless. He leaned back, and thought.

He'd spotted Eames, trying to intimidate Arthur. A few days later, he'd approached the Point Man, asking him to help with a dreamspace. Arthur had conceded, but seemed unaware of what Cobb wanted.

"I was trying to help you, Arthur," Cobb muttered to himself. "I failed. Christ, I failed."

He leaned back in the chair. Early morning light was beginning to filter into the apartment. He heard a creak on the

* * *

Eames gently stroked Arthur's hair. The younger man was asleep. Smiling, Eames turned onto his back.

The last few days had been pleasant. Arthur was so calm, so submissive. He spent most of his time asleep, or just sitting, waiting for Eames. He didn't speak. He merely smiled, a smile that seemed disconnected from reality.

Eames got out of bed, and pulled on a robe. As he was tying the sash around his waist, he heard Arthur stirring. He turned. The younger man was beginning to blink, pushing himself sleepily up against the thick pillows.

"Did it sleep?"

Arthur nodded. His expression was so placid, so calm. Eames smiled again.

"Does it want to go out?"

Arthur blinked. Eames re-phrased the question.

"The Doll is going to go out." Eames tilted his head, noting how Arthur's face began to take on a look of slight bemusement. "The doll is going to do something for me. Otherwise, its not going to come back. Does it understand?"

Arthur blinked. Eames smiled again.

"Now, the doll needs to get dressed. It needs to wear a black suit. It needs to carry this-" Eames opened a drawer - "and it needs to do everything its told. Does it understand?"

Arthur nodded again.

"Good."

Eames smiled. "Now, it will be allright. It just needs to learn to say a few things. And it needs to learn quickly. Can it do that?"

* * *

Cobb poured himself a cup of coffee. The pot was shaking in his hand, and he tried to control it. The door to the kitchenette opened, and Ariadne looked in.

"Hey," she said, her voice flat. He nodded. "Ari. Thanks for staying last night."

She paused, and turned to face him. "It won't do any good," she said, slowly. "I'm still angry about all this. What you've told me."

"You didn't see how he was behaving." Cobb put his mug down, and turned to her. "He was like a dog, possessed. He was constantly hanging around Arthur, stalking him. Making him uncomfortable."

"But that doesn't give you the right to violate his mind."

Cobb looked at her. "Eames was trying to do far worse. Trust me."

* * *

Eames looked at Arthur. "Now. Is it ready?"

Arthur nodded.

"Remember. It doesn't speak. It doesn't make a sound. But it needs to remember - this is a bad, bad man its doing this to. Its doing a good thing, hmmm?"

Arthur nodded again.

"Now, remember. It needs to do this, to make me happy. If it doesn't make me happy, I will leave it out in the woods again. Does it understand? It will be left there to die. Poor little doll."

Arthur's eyes widened with fear. Eames smiled.

"It does understand. I knew it would. Its not stupid, is it? Its not going to defy me. Ever."

Arthur shook his head.

"Good. Its the perfect little doll. Perfect for me. If it succeeds..." he began to trace his finger along Arthur's jaw, causing the younger man to close his eyes - "I'll fuck it tonight until it starts to scream. Does that sound good?"

Arthur closed his eyes, bliss settling across his face. Eames leaned over and opened the car door.

"It needs to go."

Arthur nodded. Obediently, he got out, clutching his attache black leather case. Eames nodded, and let the door shut. Swallowing, Arthur headed towards the apartment block. Eames leaned back, waiting.

* * *

Cobb heard the knocking on the door of the apartment. "One moment!"

"I'll get it!" he heared Ariadne shout. He rubbed his face. Suddenly, he heard a scream. He rushed to the hallway.

His jaw dropped. Arthur was standing there, dressed in a black suit, and holding a gun. He took a deep breath. "Arthur, listen to me. Whatever you've been told to do, then-"

His voice was interrupted by a gunshot. Suddenly, Cobb felt a sharp, searing pain rip through his abdomen. He clutched, noticing the blood.

"Arthur," he looked at him, his expression agonised. Ariadne seemed frozen. "Arthur, what you've just done, you've-"

Arthur blinked. "The doll had to kill the bad man," he said. Turning, he began to walk calmly out of the door, and started to hurry down the stairs.

* * *

****Eames smiled as Arthur re-entered the car. His breathing was laboured.

"Did the doll shoot the bad man?"

Arthur nodded. Eames smiled again.

"What a good little doll. It does everything its asked."

Arthur turned to Eames, his expression hopeful. Eames leaned over, and caressed his cheek. As he drew away from the curb, his features settled into an expression of satisfaction.

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	43. Chapter 43

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Writing is a little bit of a struggle at the moment, so feedback is appreciated for improvement. **

Eames wrapped his arms around Arthur as they began to walk from the car to the mansion. He was nuzzling Arthur's neck, causing the younger man to whimper. He tightened his grip.

"Wait till the doll sees what I've got for it," he whispered.

Arthur nodded. Feeling Eames' grip tighten, he sighed.

* * *

Ariadne sat in the waiting room. She kept looking at the wall with blind eyes, not noticing the brightly coloured prints, the potted plants in the room, or the other patients and visitors bustling through. She kept herself rigid, not wanting to speak.

She'd done everything in what seemed to be slow motion. She'd seen Cobb slump to the floor, and she'd run to him. He'd looked at her, his eyes full of pain, and shock. She'd seen the blood. Spreading across his shirt, spreading to the rug in the hallway. She'd felt frozen, then heard him.

"Ari, get me help...please..."

She'd called for the ambulance, and waited. Now she was waiting again. And all she could see was Arthur's cold, unblinking visage. All she could hear was his childlike cadence as he unloaded the bullets. She felt nauseous, and took a deep breath.

"Ms Henderson?"

Ariadne looked up. A young male intern was standing in front of her.

"Mr Cobb is out of surgery. Do you want to see him?"

Nodding, she got up, and followed him.

* * *

"It can open its eyes."

Arthur did so, and blinked. He'd been led, not into the toychest, but into Eames' master bedroom. Lying on the bed were several pairs of expensive silk boxer shorts. Eames looked at him.

"The doll may touch them."

Arthur moved forward, and picked one pair up. The material was so soft it nearly slipped through his fingers. Eames smiled with satisfaction. "Does the doll like them?"

Arthur nodded. Eames smiled again.

"I'd like the doll to wear a pair of them. Under its suit. Then it can come down to dinner."

Arthur nodded. Turning, Eames left the room.

* * *

Ariadne sat next to Cobb, and laced her fingers through his. He was deathly pale, but his breathing was steady. She swallowed.

"Hey," she whispered. "They say the bullet wound was clean. You should be out of here in a few days." Se squeezed his hand.

His eyes blinked, and he turned his head. He smiled at her. A wave of relief flowed through her. Leaning over, she kissed his forehead.

* * *

Arthur came down to dinner. Eames was already sitting at the table. He smiled when he saw him, and patted his knee.

"Come here," he said, silkily. Arthur complied. Pulling Arthur onto his lap, Eames picked up a fork, and scooped up a mouthful of the souffle.

"Open your mouth," he commanded. Arthur did so, letting the light concoction dissolve on his tongue. Eames scooped up another, and then another. Within a few minutes, the plate was empty.

"Perfect," Eames said, nodding. "Does the doll want the next course?"

Arthur nodded. Hunger was beginning to come back. Eames pulled the lid of a silver platter, revealing steak, and salad. Turning, with Arthur still on his lap, he began to cut the meat up for him. After completing this, he began to pick up meat, and brought it to Arthur's mouth.

"Here, my little darling doll."

Arthur opened his mouth, mechanically, the change of tone not being noticed. Eames winced slightly, and continued to offer him the steak.

"Eat it, please. The doll is too thin."

Arthur continued to chew, still not acknowledging the change of tone in Eames' voice. Eames speared more steak.

* * *

"Ari," Cobb whispered. His voice was hoarse and cracked. She wrapped her fingers round his hand more warmly. "Ari."

"What is it?" she asked, her tone low. He turned his head, and looked at her.

"I have to find Arthur," he said, his face contorting slightly with the pain of the bullet wound. "He's dangerous, under Eames' influence. I have to find him."

She gripped his hand tightly. "You're not doing it alone."

* * *

Eames tenderly wiped Arthur's mouth. "All done." He looked at the younger man, who was now lying with his head on Eames' shoulder. "Shall I take the doll to bed?"

Arthur nodded. Eames merely stood up with Arthur in his arms, and carried him upstairs. As they entered the bedroom, a dreamy expression settled on Arthur's face. Eames walked over to the bed, and laid him on it.

"I need to undress my doll."

Arthur was motionless as Eames began to pull off his clothes. As he removed the layers, he began to caress Arthur's skin with his fingertips. The younger man's eyes flickered. Eames began to kiss his stomach as his flesh became more exposed. He slid his fingers under the waistband of his trousers, and pulled them off.

With the exception of the silk boxers, Arthur was naked. Turning slightly from the younger man, Eames began to undress, and let his clothes fall to the floor. As he shed his shirt, he turned back to Arthur.

"I need my doll." Eames' breathing was becoming slightly laboured. "I need it. I need it."

Arthur blinked, as Eames' larger frame loomed over him. The older man's hands were persistently running down his sides. Straddling Arthur, he kissed his torso, tracing a line to his groin. As he felt Arthur shiver underneath him, he began to tug at the silk boxers. As he ripped them off, he heard Arthur sigh.

Taking Arthur in his mouth, he pleasured him. Slowly, carefully. He felt the younger man stiffen and grow harder, and he began to run his hands up his legs.

"My little doll," he whispered, "my little doll, who did for me today something that was beyond dangerous. My little doll, who I love. Who loves me. Who is never going to leave me, and I'm never going to leave it."

Arthur murmured. Eames crawled onto the bed, and began to pull the covers up over him and Arthur. As Arthur curled up next to him, Eames began to kiss his back, running his hands down it.

"The evil man is gone," he whispered. "We're safe. Me and my doll. We're going to leave. Together. Forever."

**All reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	44. Chapter 44

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur stirred, sleepily, and blinked. Eames had gone from the bed. His face crumpled, and he let out a pitiful whine. Then, he noticed the note. Struggling to sit up, he reached for it.

_The doll needs to get up, get dressed, and go downstairs. I WILL come back. E._

A smiled began to light Arthur's face. Pushing aside the heavy covers, he reached for his clothes.

* * *

Cobb tried to sit up, and winced. The bullet wound was still causing him intense pain. He struggled to sit up, and grunted with the exertion.

"Hey, be careful. Mind those stitches!"

He looked up. Erskine was standing over him, his face a mask of concern. "Here, let me help." Cobb sat patiently whilst the doctor helped adjust his pillows. "There. Should help take the strain off your back." Cobb nodded, a fresh wave of pain rocketing through his neck. Erskine looked at him, and smiled.

"It will get better," he said gently. "Listen, Mr Cobb, the police have been in. They want to talk to you, see if you can remember who your attacker was. They have ruled out your girlfriend."

Cobb leaned back against the cool pillows and closed his eyes. He felt relieved that Ariadne had been cleared, but Arthur...he felt an increasing concern for what would happen to the former Point Man if he was charged.

"I'll be back in half an hour," Erskine continued, and Cobb blinked. "I'll get the aide to bring in a fresh pitcher of water."

Cobb nodded his thanks, and closed his eyes.

* * *

Arthur walked down the stairs. He was dressed in a fresh grey suit, and his hair was neatly combed back. He opened the door to the opulent dining room.

The table was laid out for breakfast, for two people. His eyes narrowed in puzzlement - he wasn't allowed to eat unless Eames told him to. Pulling out a chair, he sat down, and patiently waited for the older man to return.

* * *

Ariadne poured herself a glass of water, and took a sip. They'd told her to go home. She'd protested, but they'd told her the best thing she could do was leave. She felt her hand shaking, and put the glass down.

Arthur. His face had been so cold, so inscrutable. She shivered, remembering. Biting her lip, she sank down onto a chair.

* * *

Eames smiled as he turned into the parking lot. He knew exactly what he was going to say. Braking, and opening the door, he began to walk towards the hospital's entrance.

* * *

Arthur looked at the food that was steadily growing colder. He then looked, dumbly, at the cutlery. He couldn't use it. He didn't know how to. Eames always let him sit in his lap, and then fed him.

He swallowed. He would just have to wait until Eames returned.

* * *

Cobb shifted, and opened his eyes. He blinked. Eames was sitting next to him. The other man's face broke into a smile. One with a sheet of ice glazing it.

"Dom. Good to see you're awake," he began, affably. "How is the shoulder?"

Cobb turned his head, ignoring the fresh pain that was pulsing through it. "I'll live," he said, coolly. "How's Arthur?"

Eames raised an eyebrow. "You were shot by him, and you want to know how he is? Very noble of you. He is-" he looked at his watch - "doing exactly as he's told. He was told to go downstairs, and wait for me. He'll be waiting now. He's such a good little doll. Does everything he's told." He smiled at Cobb, and the Extractor felt a wave of repulsion rush through him.

"You've turned him into a shell." Cobb's voice crackled with distaste. Eames shook his head, slowly.

"No, Cobb. He was a shell when I met him. A man so ruled by deadlines and demands that he'd forgotten what it was like to feel." Eames leaned forward. "Now, he does. He does feel, and he's happy. He loves me."

"He doesn't have a choice." Cobb's tone had hardened. "You've brainwashed him."

Eames shrugged. "I merely performed a little inception." He smiled again. "Like you did on your beloved."

Cobb's face froze. "You leave her out of it."

Eames looked at him. "Of course. Does Ariadne know about Mal?"

Cobb shook his head, slowly.

"I see. Well, Dom - you don't tell on me, and I'll never tell on you." Eames began to get up, pushing his chair back. 2I love Arthur. My doll. I'll shower him with luxuries and all the love he'll ever know. He's already forgotten he had a life before he became mine."

Cobb looked at him. "You want him so much you'll obliterate every trace of him as a person?"

Eames shrugged. "He wasn't a person when I started to re-make him. He was just a drone. Now, you should see how he purrs contentedly when I stroke him, when I hold him. He knows he's loved. He has no personality or mind, but he's mine. And thats all he needs."

Eames looked at Cobb.

"Don't tell the police. If you do, I'll simply dump him outside a psychiatric unit. How long do you think he's last in there?"

Cobb looked at Eames, dumbstuck. Eames turned, and started walking out of the unit.

* * *

****Arthur struggled to blink back tears. There was still no sign of Eames. The food had gone cold, and he was conscious of a gnawing hunger.

Suddenly, he heard a door, and footsteps. Eames appeared in the doorway.

"My little doll!" He exclaimed. "Has it been sitting there, waiting?"

Arthur nodded. Eames swooped down, and pulled him onto his lap.

"My little doll!" he said, tederly. "It musn't cry! I'll take care of it. Forever!"

Arthur nodded and laid his head on Eames' shoulder. Stroking Arthur's cheek, Eames smiled.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	45. Chapter 45

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

"It needs to open it mouth."

Arthur lowered his jaw, and obediently let Eames thrust a forkful of food into it. He chewed and swallowed. Eames nodded.

"Excellent." He put the fork on the plate. "The doll has had enough?" Arthur nodded. "Good." Eames let the fork clatter onto the plate. "There is something I want it to do."

Arthur looked at him, innocently. Eames glared at him.

"Christ, you really are just a mindless void, now, aren't you?" he said, his tone dropping slightly with an undercurrent of menace. "Just a vacuous little soul, who only lives for me." He reached out and stroked his cheek. "I've done a good job on you. Too good."

He stood up. "Now, it needs to listen." He smiled. "Its going to pay someone a visit. Its going to be very careful, because otherwise, I will not be pleased. Does it understand?"

Arthur nodded again. Eames smiled. "Excellent."

* * *

Ariadne bit her lip as she sat next to Cobb. He smiled at her. "How are you?" she asked, quietly.

"I'm all right," he replied, his voice low. "Eames paid a visit."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Why?"

"To warn me to stay away from Arthur," he said, tiredly. "To warn me that he'd never rectify what he's done."

She bit her lip. "Dom. You have to go to the police."

"If I do, I'll have to admit to the fact that I incepted Arthur, created a new life for him. Changed everything about him." He closed his eyes. "I'm as guilty as hell. I wanted to protect him, and instead ended up making it worse."

She looked at him. "Dom. I'm still not happy about what you did, but I will stand by you." She got up, and smoothed her jeans. "I'm going to get a coffee. Do you want anything?"

He shook his head. "Still on a drip."

She smiled. "Back later."

* * *

Arthur walked down the corridor, examining the piece of paper in his hand. Swallowing, he turned into the room. Cobb lay in the bed, looking at the ceiling.

Arthur strode up to him, and reached for his gun. Silently, he pulled it out, and pressed it to the other man's face.

Cobb's eyes opened at the shock of the cold metal. Turning his head, his mouth gaped. "Arthur?"

* * *

Eames sat in the car, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He checked his watch.

"Cobb made you into what you are," he murmured. "You kill him properly, you'll have had your revenge."

* * *

Ariadne stood patiently in line at the hospital canteen. Checking her watch, she frowned. She only had twenty minutes of visiting time left. Sighing, she approached the counter.

* * *

"You stole my life," Arthur hissed, pushing the gun at Cobb's face. "You turned me into this!"

Cobb's eyes widened. "Arthur - please - I'm not going to defend myself, but-"

"You turned me into this!" the other man insisted, his jaw tightening.

* * *

Eames leaned back. His mind wandered to the practice he'd had with Arthur that day.

"Now, remember. It says 'you stole my life.' Can you remember?"

Arthur nodded, vigorously.

"Then it says, 'you turned me into this.' Can it remember?"

Arthur nodded again.

Eames looked at him, his face slightly hard. "Good."

* * *

"You stole my life!" Arthur repeated, mechanically. "You stole my life!"

Cobb blinked. "Arthur," he said, gently, "you have no idea what you're actually saying. You have no idea."

Arthur blinked again. "You turned me into this!"

"Turned you into what, Arthur?" Cobb asked, his voice calm. "What have I turned you into?"

Arthur stopped, his mouth hanging open.

"You don't know, do you?" Cobb began to raise himself up against the pillows. "You don't know!"

His face beginning to contort in fear, Arthur threw the gun on the floor. "The doll can't do this!" he shrieked, turned, and ran.

Cobb stared after him, his jaw dropping.

* * *

Eames looked up as Arthur came to the car. His brown eyes were filled with fear. Unlocking the door, Eames let him in.

"Did the doll succeed?" he asked, gently. Arthur shook his head, his eyes terrified. Eames frowned, and glared at the younger man.

"It didn't succeed?" he said, silkily. "Then it must be punished."

**All reviews appreciated, I like to know whose reading! Thank you!**


	46. Chapter 46

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur shivered. The floor was cold, and he was wearing nothing except his boxers. He grasped at the edge of his blanket, and tried to wrap it around himself. He rubbed his face. His tears had stopped, but the burning pain in his buttocks made him remember why he was there.

The drive back had been torturous. Eames had kept his eyes on the road. Arthur had swallowed, and opened his mouth.

"The doll is sorry-"

Eames didn't even look at him. He merely kept driving.

Once they were back at the mansion, he'd turned to Arthur.

"The doll goes upstairs. It undresses. Then it waits."

Arthur had gone upstairs, and taken off the three piece suit. He waited. Eames then opened the door, and looked at him, raising one eyebrow dispassionately.

"Bend over the bed."

Arthur did so. Eames leaned over him.

"What a cowardly little bitch you really are."

Arthur blinked. _Cowardly little bitch. _

"What is the doll?" Eames demanded.

"The doll is a...a...cowardly little bitch," Arthur stammered.

Eames slapped him hard across his buttocks.

"Repeat."

"The doll is a cowardly little bitch."

Eames slapped him again.

"Repeat."

"The doll is a cowardly-"

"Oh, enough!" Eames roared at him. "It needs to go where all the cowardly little bitches go!" He grabbed Arthur by the upper arm. "Its going to where all the rotting, useless toys go!"

Arthur swallowed. "Please Eames-"

Shocked, Eames stopped. Blinking, he looked at him. "What did you just say?" his voice was a hoarse whisper.

"Please, Eames, please." Arthur's voice was tremulous, but something was stirring in him. Eames tightened his grip.

"Thats enough," he snarled, and half dragged him from the room. As he was pulled down the stairs, Arthur felt tears beginning to run down his face.

* * *

Ariadne sat at the side of Cobb's bed. "How you feeling?"

Cobb blinked. "Not great." He swallowed. "I should be out of here in a couple of days." He shifted. "Listen, Ariadne, I need you to do something for me."

She frowned. "Whats that?"

"I need you to ring someone. His name and address is in my file, at my apartment." He swallowed. "The Police will have cleared out of there by now."

"Who is it?"

Cobb looked at her. "His name is Nash. He's an old work colleague. I can't do this alone. I need his help. Arthur came in yesterday, weilding a gun, and threatened to kill me. His mind has been completely poisoned. I can only stop him if I get help from someone who knows extraction."

She bit her lip. "What do I say to him?"

Cobb looked at her. "Ask him to come and see me. Please."

* * *

Eames sank slowly into a chair, and reached for a scotch. He closed his eyes. He could still hear Arthur whimpering as he slapped him. He'd slapped harder than he intended.

He took a swallow. His mind was slowly sinking back into memories - he remembered one evening when he'd come back to the warehouse, and found Arthur working late. He'd been bending over the desk, the light from the outside illuminating his slender shape. Eames had walked towards him, fixating on his frame. Before Arthur could move, he'd placed his hands on his buttocks.

"Oh," he'd said, softly, "they are such a perfect-"

Scarlet with rage, Arthur had turned to him. "Get off me," he'd said, furiously. "How dare you come in here and and-"

Eames smirked. "Oh, stop it. Its amusing. You act so tough in dreams, Arthur, but as soon as I try and lay a finger on you, you start squealing like a college freshman whose boyfriend tries to take her bra off."

Arthur looked at him. "You're disgusting."

"And you're repressed," Eames countered. "Why don't you admit to it, Arthur? That underneath that strait laced exterior, you're just dying for a good, hard, dirty fuck. For me to take you, and make you moan."

Arthur looked at Eames, folding his arms. "Is this how you're going to get me?" He asked, his voice glacial. "Offer to take me out? Get me drunk? Manipulate me into sex by calling me impotent? Then get your jollies and stroll away?" He shook his head. "You're going to have to do better than that."

Eames raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I will." He looked at him. "I'll break you into nothing, Arthur. I promise."

He took a swallow of scotch. He had broken him. But he wouldn't even do what he was asked. The Forger felt the anger beginning to bubble in his veins again. He put the glass down.

* * *

Cobb yawned, and turned. Suddenly, he heard a voice.

"Hey man. How are you?"

He blinked. "Nash?" the Architect smiled uncertainly and perched himself on a chair. His hair still looked lank and greasy, Cobb noted, and his clothes looked unwashed. He leaned forward. "What happened?"

"How are you?" Cobb asked, quietly. Nash shrugged.

"Can't complain. Got a job at a little design firm in LA. Mostly for bohemian types, you know, at Silverlake." He shrugged. "Pays the bills."

Cobb bit his lip. "I'm sorry I severed ties with you, Nash. But what was happening-"

"With Eames and Arthur?" Nash shivered. "Man, it was creepy. Always trying to touch him, trying to get him alone." He looked at Cobb. "Did the inception work?"

Cobb shrugged. "Well, no. Eames tracked Arthur down. Abducted him. And he's incepted him again."

"Wow." Nash's Californian slang made the Extractor smile inwardly. "What's he done?"

"He took him over," Cobb said. "Incepted him. Turned him into the doll." He shook his head. "Arthur has no mind of his own, anymore. I need you to design plans to help extract this."

Nash bit his lip. "Um, Dom, I-"

"What?" The Extractor looked at him. "What is it?"

Nash looked uncomfortable. "Um, Dom, I got to-"

Suddenly, his cell phone buzzed. He bit his lip. "Got to take this, sorry."

* * *

Eames waited impatiently for the call to be answered. After listening to it ring, he clicked off. Shoving the phone into his pocket, he began to make his way downstairs.

He smiled the door, and looked at Arthur. "Does the doll want to come out?" he spoke softly. Arthur nodded, and Eames smiled. "Excellent. Come on."

* * *

Robert opened the door. "Where the hell have you been?" he demanded. Nash blinked.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I was-"

"Never mind," Fischer said coldly, cutting him off. "I'm just relieved your here." He nodded. "In there."

Nash walked into the room. Eames was standing there, holding a cigarette. "Well, Nash," he said, smiling pleasantly. "I don't believe I ever really thanked you."

"The designs worked?" Nash asked. Eames nodded. "Oh yes. Here's the evidence."

Nash blinked. Sitting in a chair, dressed in boxers and a t-shirt, was Arthur. He was curled up and sobbing. Eames leaned over, and gently stroked his hair.

"It will be allright," he said, softly. "It will be allright for the doll."

Nash blinked, then looked at Eames, who smiled, cruelly.

"Now gentlemen," Eames said, smiling. "Shall we begin?"

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated. I like to know who is reading this - thank you!**


	47. Chapter 47

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Apologies for the fact this is a little short!**

Nash looked at Arthur, nervously. "Um, he doesn't look too good."

Eames bit his lip. Walking over to Arthur, he held out his arms. The younger man looked up, his eyes flickering with recognition. Arthur got up, and Eames pulled him close. Then, turning, he sat in the chair, pulling the younger man onto his lap. Arthur cuddled close, and grabbed at Eames.

Nash's jaw dropped. Eames smiled and stroked Arthur's hair. "Your design worked," Eames said, softly. "Pleased?"

Nash shook his head. "Jesus, Eames, what did you do to him?"

"I've created the man I wanted," the Forger said, softly stroking Arthur's hair. "One who just loves me."

Nash swallowed. "I'm sorry, Arthur," he whispered.

Fischer turned to him. "You're not leaving, are you, Nash?"

The scrawny architect shook his head. "No." Swallowing, he sat down, and waited nervously for the reason for the meeting to unfold. Fischer cleared his throat.

"Well, as you know," he said, looking at the three other men, "my father made a serious error in business, in entrusting a large sum of money to a friend of his. That friend has since absconded to South America - and I want the money back."

Eames nodded, stroking Arthur's hair. "Of course."

"Well, its very simple." Fischer looked at the two of them. "I need you to Forge, Eames, and Nash, you'll design it."

"What about Arthur?" Eames asked.

"What about him?" Fische shrugged. "He's not capable of doing anything. You'll have to leave him here."

Eames raised his eyebrows. "Do you think he'd survive on his own?"

Fischer looked at Arthur, who was smiling, dreamily. "Probably not." Fischer smiled, cruelly. Eames bit his lip, and looked at the other man. "You're sure?"

"Eames." Fischer fixed him with a hard stare. "We have to go to Brazil to do this. I doubt that Arthur would even get through passport control. Oh, and Eames-" Fischer said, smiling coldly- "have you noticed how you're referring to him as Arthur? Not as the Doll? Starting to wear off, is it?"

Eames blinked. "No," he said, his voice hardening. He turned and looked at the younger man. "Only I refer to it as the Doll. Its mine. Not yours."

Fischer smirked. "Such a petulant child." He shrugged. "You can leave it here. And if it starves to death...well. Not as though it will be much of a loss."

Eames glared at him. "Stop it."

"Eames," Fischer said, genially. "Let's not argue. You stand to gain a lot of money out of this. So, are you in, or are you out?"

Eames swallowed. "I'm in."

Fischer nodded. "Thought so." He turned to Nash. "So, I suggest you start designing. We need to extract. Eames, I'm trusting you to do this." He swallowed, and turned back to the Forger. "But, I'm warning you, don't try and keep Arthur in on this. He's out the loop. Useless."

Nodding absently, Eames continued to stroke Arthur's hair. Nash looked at him, repulsion on his face. Noticing the look, Eames lowered his eyes, and focused on Arthur.

* * *

Eames opened the door to Arthur's room. The younger man was stretched out on the bed. Walking over, the older man sat down next to him, causing him to stir.

"Does the doll," Eames swallowed, "want to come out of its toybox?"

Arthur murmured, and turned over. The older man blinked, and stroked his back gently, with his fingers.

"Does the doll want to come into its master's bed?"

Again, Arthur merely shifted. His breathing was peaceful, indicating a soul lost in slumber. Eames leaned over, and kissed his neck. Getting up, he began to strip off his shirt, and unbuckled his belt. As the clothes hit the floor, he lifted up the covers, and slid in next to Arthur's sleeping form. As he lay down, the younger man began to bury his head in his chest. Eames responded by stroking his back.

"I love you," Eames said, softly. "I love you, so I destroyed you." Arthur barely stirred. Eames pulled him close, and shuddered. As tears began to roll down his cheeks, Arthur continued his peaceful, dreamless sleep.

**reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	48. Chapter 48

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Apologies for the hiatus with this fic!**

Eames stirred, and felt a slight pressure on his neck. He looked down, and noticed that Arthur had pressed his face into the hollow. Putting his arm round him, he pulled him close, gently kissing the top of his head.

"Morning," he whispered, feeling the warmth of the younger man's skin. He laid back, and closed his eyes, remembering the meeting the previous night, and shuddering.

"Brazil," he whispered. "I can't take you to Brazil. You'd die. And if I leave you here, you'll die."

Arthur stirred, and murmured. Holding him tightly, Eames swallowed, his mind desperately searching for a solution.

* * *

"So are you going to tell them, or shall I?"

Cobb groaned slightly, and shifted. He was still in the hospital, under observation. The pain in his shoulder had lessened, and he'd began to feel his muscles relax. He looked at Ariadne.

"If I tell them about Eames, he could go to jail for the rest of his life," he said, flatly. "What he's done is kidnap, assault, and attempted murder. But Arthur? He'll spend the rest of his life in a psychiatric unit."

"Unless we find him first," she said, stubbornly.

"What?" Cobb blinked, and narrowed his eyes slightly. "What are you saying?"

"We need to find him first," she insisted. "You say that Arthur didn't use to be like this?"

Cobb shook his head. "No."

"Then surely you can go in, and pull everything out." Her tone was urgent. "You can perform - an extraction, isn't it?"

The Extractor nodded, slowly. "I guess." He shuddered. "Although I really don't like to think whats been placed in there." He leaned back, and sighed. "This is all my fault. I should have been more wary of Eames, of what he was planning. When I go in, I'll extract everything."

"Everything?"

"Yes," Cobb repeated. "Everything. My inception, Eames' the lot. Try and restore Arthur's mind."

Ariadne bit her lip. "But couldn't you end up stripping away everything he has? What if you just leave him a blank slate?"

"If I do," Cobb said, "I'll put myself up for arrest as well." He looked at her. "But I deserve it." He swallowed. "Christ, I deserve it."

* * *

"Would the doll like some more?"

Arthur looked at Eames, a dreamy expression spreading across his face. Eames swallowed, unsure whether that was an affirmation or not. He picked up the coffee pot, and lifted it, letting the scalding liquid splash into the cup. Arthur's eyes widened, but then he reached forward, and picked up the delicate china.

Eames swallowed. Looking at the younger man, whose face seemed almost ethereal against the delicate morning light, he suddenly felt slightly uneasy. A sharp knock on the door echoed through the house, and the older man got up.

"I'll see who it is." Arthur looked up. "The doll must not move." Arthur nodded. Feeling a spasm of guilt, the Forger hurried to the door.

* * *

"So, how are we going to find Arthur?"

Cobb sighed, and looked at her. "By finding Eames. But how do you find a man who has several aliases?" He rubbed his forehead, and leaned back against the pillows. "Could be impossible."

"You can't give up," Ariadne said, firmly. "You just can't."

* * *

Robert Fischer eyed Arthur, who was sitting at the far end of the table. "He's very quiet," he said, lifting his coffee cup. "Very biddable."

Eames looked at the other man. "Why are you here?" he said, heavily. Fischer arched an eyebrow, and smiled.

"I'm here to propose that we go to Brazil. Tomorrow," he said, smoothly. "I want that money back, and I'm sure you could do with a cut of it."

"I could," the Forger said, his mind racing, "but I have him to consider-" he got up. A milk jug was in danger of sliding through Arthur's listless fingers. By the side of him, he reached over, and gently prised it out of Arthur's fingers. "There we go."

Fischer's eyes hardened. "Leave him here."

"You're not serious."

"I'm very serious. Poor little doll." Fischer smiled, cruelly. "It'll be dead when you get back."

"Robert, I-"

"I wouldn't defy me, Eames," Fischer said, getting up. "Otherwise I could mention the fact you have connections in Brazil which are somewhat illegal."

Eames' face paled. "So you're suggesting that I-"

"Yes," Robert said coldly. "Dump him." He drained the last of his coffee. "Psychiatric unit, out in the wilderness...just dump him."

* * *

The airport was crowded, and noisy. Eames rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache beginning to twinge. He turned, and looked at Arthur. He was dressed again in a suit, and was holding an iPhone. He looked peaceful, composed. Eames swallowed, and reaching over, patted his knee.

"Come on," he said, encouragingly. Arthur nodded, and got up. The two men began to make their way to check in, Eames holding both their passports. He swallowed - the passport for Arthur was fake, and he hoped that the check in clerk wasn't especially alert. Arthur moved gracefully across, his expression completely vacant.

As they approached the desk, Eames turned to him. "I'll talk," he whispered. "We'll soon be in Paris. No-one will hurt my doll."

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!**


	49. Chapter 49

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

"Would you like something to drink, Sir?"

Eames blinked, jolted awake by the melodious voice of the flight attendant. He smiled at her, noting that her face was sweet and composed. "Oh, yes please. Coffee, and water." She nodded, and hurried off. He turned to Arthur, who was fast asleep. He thought, with a twinge of guilt, about the sedative he'd slipped into the younger man's complimentary cup of coffee as they'd boarded. Keeping him asleep, Eames had considered, was the only way to get through the flight.

"It'll be ok," he whispered, gently smoothing the younger man's hair. "I have a place in Paris, we'll be safe."

The attendant returned, holding a tray. She gently placed on the fold out seat tray the coffee, water, and some plastic stirrers, along with packets of sugar. "There you go."

"Thank you." He smiled at her. She nodded and left. Eames took a sip of the hot liquid, trying to banish his worrying thoughts. When Robert found out...he shuddered. _But he's not going to get you. I'll never let him take you, I promise. _

* * *

"So, how do we find them?"

Cobb sighed. Ariadne was possessed with the idea of finding Eames, and Arthur. He had a sneaking hunch the Forger would not allow himself to be traced. "Well, I could give you a list of all the aliases Eames has used, and seeing if they can be traced."

She nodded. "Think he might have property? A house somewhere?" She leaned over. "Dom, Eames has got to have been keeping Arthur somewhere, out of sight, and out of sound. Somewhere isolated."

Dom nodded, again. "You could be right."

"I know I am." Her tone was insistent, and Cobb was beginning to find this assertive, straight-forward Ariadne more attractive than the seemingly timid young woman he'd first met. "We need to find Arthur, and you have to extract. All of it."

Cobb swallowed. "Ariadne, I know. But let's...find them first, ok?"

* * *

"I hope you'll like it."

Eames stopped himself - he was again referring to Arthur directly, rather than distancing himself by referring as an object. He swallowed. The younger man was standing in the middle of the lounge of the large Parisian penthouse, his eyes wide.

Eames rubbed his forehead. The journey from the airport had been taken in a taxi - he'd explained Arthur's seeming listelessness away due to jet lag. He'd been alarmed by Arthur's cowed look during the journey - everything, it seemed, had frightened him. He'd paled as they'd got caught in traffic, hearing car horns honk; he'd been alarmed by a cyclist shouting abuse at a driver.

The older man stepped forward. "Arthur," he whispered softly, "not too long ago, you would have mocked my deocrating taste, and rightly so. Now, you just stand there, taking this all in - you don't criticise, or make my life difficult. This is what I've done, and I-"

He stopped, tears were prickling the back of his throat. He turned away, Arthur's face still caught in a dreamy, listless expression. "Right," Eames whispered. "Let's get you to bed." He began to stroke Arthur's arm. "I'd really like to-" he stopped. He knew what he wanted, and realised, with a sharp pang, that before this, Arthur would have wrestled him to the ground.

Arthur's eyes widened, and he shook his head. "The toybox." His tone was slightly stubborn.

Eames blinked. "No, Arthur. Bedroom. To bed." He grimaced - he sounded as though he were speaking to not-too-bright toddler. "I am going to put you to bed, in the bedroom."

"The doll needs its toybox."

"Arthur." Eames' voice held a warning tone. "Stop it!" He looked at him. "You are not a doll, you do not need a toybox! Do you understand me?"

"But the doll needs its toybox!" Arthur suddenly grabbed Eames, and began clinging to him. "Put the doll in its toybox!"

Eames swallowed - an overwhelming feeling of anger was starting to surge. He caught hold of Arthur's arms, as gently as possible. "OK," he said, gently, "I'll put the doll in its toybox."

Arthur nodded. Eames felt the slender man's arms wrap around him. He pulled him close. "I'll look after you," he whispered. He wrapped an arm around Arthur. "Come on."

Arthur let himself be walked into the bedroom, and after a few minutes, Eames had him inbetween the sheets. "Right," he said, gently. "I need the doll to sleep."

Arthur nodded, his eyes closing. Biting his lip, Eames reached under the bed, and pulled out a PASIV. As he opened it, he noticed Arthur's breathing was becoming more relaxed. "Right," he whispered. "Time to find out what's in there."

As he plugged in the IVs, he felt a spasm of fear. Swallowing, trying to steady his breathing, he stretched out beside the younger man, and pressed down the centre button.

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!**


	50. Chapter 50

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Thank you for reading and reviewing the previous chapter!**

Eames blinked, and opened his eyes. He was lying on something. Sitting up, he blinked, and tried to take in his surroundings.

It appeared to be a carpet. A thick, soft carpet, that he realised he was making indentions in. He hastily got to his feet, and began to walk down the hallway. With a jolt, he realised that it was almost exactly the mirror image of the mansion. The mansion he'd managed to purchase with the proceeds of the jobs he'd done.

Doors. He hesitated before one, and put his hand on it. Swallowing, he pushed it open, almost fearing what he'd see.

Nothing. A blank, empty room. He took a step inside, and suddenly, he was falling. To his shock, he realised that there was no floor. He fell, until, he hit what seemed to be another soft floor. He groaned, wondering if he'd broken anything. Swallowing, he began to get up.

Another door. He pushed it open. This time, his eyes widened, shocked at what was before him.

Arthur. Sitting in a chair, hands behind his back. He was gagged, and his arms were bound. Eames approached him.

"Arthur, I-"

Suddenly, he felt himself cut off. As he reached out, he realised that there was a wall - a glass wall- separating him and the younger man. He pressed against it. "Arthur, I- Arthur, I want to get you, Arthur, I-"

Suddenly, the ground began to shake, and Eames felt himself falling away from the glass. Suddenly, he found himself hitting the floor, still looking at Arthur, wide eyed, and bound to the chair.

"Arthur, I-" suddenly, the Forger's eyes flew open, and he blinked. He was back in the hotel room, in Paris. He began to sit up, slowly, realising that he was shaking. He turned his head. Arthur was stretched out, his eyelids fluttering. Swallowing, Eames leaned over, and gently touched his hand.

"Are you ok?" he whispered. No response. Eames blinked, a surge of panic beginning to rise in his chest.

"Please answer me." He spoke with increased urgency. "Please. Please!"

Suddenly, Arthur's eyelids flew open, and Eames exhaled slowly. He leaned over, and gently began to unhook Arthur from the PASIV. The younger man was completely compliant, and suddenly, as Eames leaned over him, he grabbed the front of his shirt.

"OK, come on, need to let go." Eames blinked, noting that Arthur was holding the shirt with force; his knuckles were turning white. "Come on, let go, you-"

Suddenly, a hand was raised and slapped him hard, across his mouth and lower jaw. The Forger was stunned; he'd never seen any physical response from Arthur. As he leaned back, the younger man suddenly flew at him, pushing him back down onto his back, and grabbing at his arms. Shocked, Eames jerked his head to the left, trying to avoid Arthur's fingers, which had suddenly curled into claws. In desperation, he thrust his hand up, and grabbed the younger man's arm. "Stop it!" He shouted.

Arthur blinked. It was as though Eames' shout had pierced his consciousness. He looked down at the Forger, his eyes slowly widening. Then, he leaned forward, a desperate expression on his face. Eames pulled him close, letting him huddle against his chest. A soft sigh escaped from Arthur, and Eames stroked his back.

"Want to go to bed?" he whispered. He felt a nodding motion, and swallowed. Gently, he began to unbutton the younger man's shirt. Then, he heard a whisper.

"Toybox."

"Yes, you shall go to the toybox."

"Come into it."

"You want me to come into the toybox?" Eames was beginning to feel increasingly alarmed at Arthur's fragmented speech patterns. The younger man nodded.

"OK, I will come into the toybox." Eames continued to pull Arthur's shirt off his shoulders, wincing as he saw his collarbone. He began to run his finger down it. "I must feed you." He paused. "I'll get room service. Something simple."

He looked up. Arthur was shaking his head.

"No?" Eames swallowed. "But, you're looking thin - my fault. I have to feed you."

Arthur shook his head. "Toybox." His tone was insistent, and he was beginning to grab at Eames. "Toybox!"

"Allright, toybox." Eames swallowed. Arthur had tilted his head to the side. "Come on."

Slowly, he began to peel back the covers, having hastily shoved the PASIV underneath the bed. Arthur compliantly got in, and opened his arms. Swallowing, Eames quickly stripped himself of clothes, and got into the bed.

Arthur immediately moved on top of him. The larger man swallowed, looking at his graceful silhouette. "Arthur, I-"

Before he could move, Arthur leaned down, and started to kiss his neck. Then, he started to cuddle down towards Eames. The older man tightened his grip around him.

"What's in your mind," he whispered, "is that you've become a frightened child. Thats my fault. Mine. There's only one thing I can do, but it might end up killing you." He closed his eyes, and pulled him closer. "But I'm going to try."

He settled, Arthur lying on his chest. He closed his eyes. Suddenly, his cell phone began to ring.

* * *

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	51. Chapter 51

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Sorry for the hiatus!**

Eames picked up the phone, gingerly. As he lifted it to his ear, he was conscious of Arthur, who was now cuddling against the broader man's chest. "Yes?"

"Eames." He swallowed as the voice seeped out from the small device. "Robert. Where are you?"

"I'm..." Eames swallowed. "Not at home."

"I know," Robert said, smoothly. "You're not. And no doubt you've taken that thing with you."

"Arthur." Eames felt a rush of anger. "His name is Arthur."

"Was." Robert's tone was smooth. "I do hope you're enjoying your last few days with him."

"Meaning?" Eames demanded.

"Well, put it this way. I need him more than you. He'll prove very...useful."

Eames looked down at Arthur. "You're not having him." His voice was firm.

"You don't have a choice." Suddenly, the connection broke, and Eames was left staring at a dead cell phone. Swallowing, he clicked it off, and laid back on the bed. Arthur was quiet, his head on his chest. Eames began to stroke his hair.

"Poor little..." he stopped, and swallowed. "Arthur."

No response. Eames swallowed again. "Room service. I must feed you."

Arthur shifted, allowing Eames to pick up the room phone. He dialled, carefully. "Um, yes, hello. I'd like to order steak, please, twice. Salad. Wine? Red. Thank you."

He leaned back, and let Arthur curl up against him. Suddenly, Eames took his shoulders, and gently pushed him off.

"No," he said, softly, "allow me."

Carefully, he let Arthur move until he was leaning against the bed, then slowly made his way down his body, down to the most sensitive, vulnerable part of the former Point Man. As he began to make his way down, he heard a soft sigh escape the younger man. Swallowing, he began to pleasure him.

* * *

Cobb bit his lip as he paged his way through his former address books. Ariadne looked up from her pile of paperwork. The former Extractor had been discharged, but upon entering his apartment, he'd insisted on locating the trappings of his former life.

"What was Arthur like...as the Point?" Ariadne felt the need to ask the question, to try and piece together the former fragments of the man's life. Cobb swallowed before answering her.

"He was always very clear, very methodical." Cobb flicked through the paper. "Really knew what he was doing."

"Why do you think Eames liked him?"

"Well, possibly his looks..." Cobb looked at Ariadne. "But probably because he was something Eames couldn't have, and it killed him."

* * *

Arthur exhaled softly as Eames finished. The older man raised his head, and noticed that his eyes were closing, almost asleep. He began to manouvre his way up the slender form, kissing his inner thighs, then his chest.

"God, you're so-" Eames stopped, feeling a hot wave of shame. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. "Room service!"

Eames got up, and pulled on his robe. Tying it at the waist, he quickly moved to the door, and opened it. A scrawny teenager stood in front of him, looking slightly ridiculous in the formal hotel uniform. Eames nodded impatiently, and signed the proferred slip, taking the tray with their meals. Arthur sighed, and burrowed back into the bed as Eames approached.

"Right," Eames said, gently. "You need to eat. Please."

Arthur ignored him.

"Arthur, you need to eat." Eames' suddenly realised that his voice was threatening to jump an octave. "You mustn't starve yourself. Come on."

Arthur looked at him, and then at the food. He turned away.

"Arthur." Eames' voice was becoming tauter. "Arthur, you need to eat. Now."

Reluctantly, Arthur turned towards Eames. Eames smiled, attempting to be reassuring. "Right." He cut a piece of steak, and held it up, displayed on the fork. "Now. Eat."

Arthur opened his mouth. Smiling, Eames placed it inside, watching as the younger man chewed, and swallowed.

"There," he said, gently. "Now, another mouthful."

* * *

"Was there anyone who might want to try and hurt Arthur as well?"

Cobb blinked, and looked over at Ariadne. They were taking a break, the papers beginning to form two piles. Cobb rubbed his forehead.

"I can think of several," he said, smiling wryly. "You don't make many friends by performing extraction."

"But there must be someone," Ariadne insisted. Cobb frowned, his expression darkening.

"There is," he said, slowly. "But, oh, God..."

His face paling, he began to search through the pile.

* * *

Eames leaned back, and looked at Arthur. The younger man had eaten half the offered steak. Swallowing, the Forger began to put the plates, and trays, on the floor.

"Right," he said, looking at him. "You've eaten something, and-"

Suddenly, he stopped. Arthur flew at him, pressing his lips to his. Before Eames could react, Arthur was practically crawling over his chest, biting at his tattoos. The Forger blinked, then laid back onto the bed.

"Oh, Arthur," he said, softly, "Please, just-"

He stifled a scream as Arthur bit down hard onto his chest. "The Doll," he said, quickly. "The Doll, must not bite."

Arthur looked up, and nodded. Eames grabbed his shoulders, and pushed him up.

"Come on," he said, quietly. "I have to leave. And take the Doll with me."

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	52. Chapter 52

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Thank you for reading and reviewing the previous chapter!**

Eames sighed and turned over. His arm hit Arthur's back, causing a groan of protest from the younger man.

"You awake?" he asked softly, running a finger down his back. Arthur looked up, a lock of dark hair obscuring his vision. "I am now." He moved closer, and started to nestle against the older man. "Hmmm." He ran his hand down over Eames' chest. "Oh, come on!"

"Arthur!" Eames looked at him, a smile beginning to cross his face. "You are so-"

Suddenly, the ground began to shake, and the Forger's eyes jerked open. Turning his head, he looked at the PASIV, and then at Arthur. The slender man was lost in a pill-induced haze. As he started to sit up and remove the IV, he bit his lip.

"The only way I can now get satisfaction, is in a dream," he muttered. He propped himself up on an elbow, and ran his finger down Arthur's face. He bit his lip. He'd sedated him as they'd driven to the remote village, and had carefully carried the younger man out, to the bemused look of the elderly woman who'd handed him the key.

"He's ok," Eames had commented, in fluent French. "Just not been well, lately." She'd nodded, sympathetically, and unlocked the door. As if he were holding a precious object, Eames had taken Arthur upstairs.

The house was a typical French farmhouse - the ceilings were high, the rooms airy. The furniture easily dated from the 1930s, and, the British man surmised, looked comfortable. He laid Arthur on the bed, and gently pulled a cover over him.

"Sleep," he said, softly, and kissed his forehead. Then, on impulse, he'd pulled out the PASIV. As he disconnected himself from his dream, he looked at Arthur, and felt a sense of loss. Sighing, he headed downstairs, leaving the younger man asleep on the bed.

* * *

Arthur smiled as he faced Eames. "Morning," he whispered, sleepily. Leaning over, he kissed him on the lips, then turned over.

"Hey!" Eames sounded slighted. "Is that all?"

Arthur turned back over, and looked at the older man, smirking slightly. "You shouldn't pout. It ruins your face."

"Arthur!" Eames sounded wounded. "You're so cruel to me!"

"I know." Arthur grinned. "You know I love you, Eames." He leaned over, and kissed his forehead, and then began to rub his chest. "Even if you are starting to get a little fat."

"Oi!" The Forger looked offended. "If I am, its only because-"

"I don't give you enough exercise," Arthur said, smirking. "We can fix that-" he leaned down, and kissed the older man - "right now."

Eames began to smirk in return as the younger man started to straddle him. "Of course."

* * *

Eames awoke, with a start. He'd been sitting downstairs, and had fallen asleep again. Rubbing his forehead, he got out of the chair, and began to move towards the kitchen. Pouring himself a glass of water, he took a sip.

Suddenly, he heard a thump, from upstairs. Putting the glass by the sink, he headed upstairs. "Arthur!"

He threw open the door to the bedroom. There was no sign of Arthur. Swallowing, he moved forward, only to find his heart sink with relief as he saw the outline of the younger man lying on the floor, and beginning to stir. He reached over, and picked him up.

"Oh, dear," he said, gently. "Come on."

He hauled the younger man up and off the floor, and placed him back on the bed. He laid down next to him, and began to stroke his hair.

"I had to get us out of Paris," he said, gently. "Had to get you away from Robert."

Suddenly, his cell phone rang again. He swallowed, and pulled it out of his pocket, and opened it.

"Eames?" Robert's voice seeped out of the receiver. "Are you going to keep on doing this?"

"Just-" Eames paused. "Let me enjoy him, ok?"

"Oh no." Robert's voice was shaking with barely suppressed anger. "Did you think after the job that you pulled I would be willing to let is go? You tried an extraction, and you failed? And who was behind it? Arthur."

Eames swallowed. "Not true. Cobb agreed to it-"

"But Arthur didn't get his research right." Robert's tone was smugly infuriating. "And we agreed, Eames, that as soon as you had him as a mindless little naif, I could use him for something."

"I think I had to agree when you were pointing a gun at my head," the Forger retorted.

"Oh, you did." Robert's tone was glacial. "But I take it you've fallen in love?"

Eames looked down at Arthur, whose eyes were beginning to open. "Yes," he said, honestly.

"And let me guess," Robert said, icily. "You also wanted to do this as revenge on him for all the times you believed he slighted you? You were obsessed with him, wanted to own him - and then hand him over to me?"

Eames swallowed. "Maybe. But you're not going to get him." He clicked off. Sighing, he began to stroke Arthur's head.

Arthur's hand reached up, and clutched at the older man. Eames let him bury his face in his neck, and stroked his hair. "Christ," he whispered. "What I did...out of spite. Thought if I could own you, turn you into this-"

He shivered. "I have to extract this," he muttered. "Bring you back."

Suddenly, his eyes widened. Arthur's teeth were clamping down, hard, onto his neck. Almost screaming, Eames grabbed the younger man and pulled him off. "No!"

Arthur leaned back, and narrowed his eyes. Shaking slightly, Eames pointed at him. "No. You don't do that."

Arthur kept looking at him, impassively. Swallowing, Eames reached for his cellphone. After a small wait, a voice began to appear. "Hello?"

"Robert?" Eames looked at Arthur. "If I let you have it - my doll - you'll hand him back?"

"Of course." Robert sounded genuine. "I only want it for one thing."

"But, Robert-"

"Yes, Eames?"

"Please, be gentle. I love him."

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	53. Chapter 53

**Inception does not belong to me. Apologies for the hiatus, but the site has been a little strange, lately. **

Eames shifted in the bed, and his arm hit an empty space. Swallowing, he blinked.

"Arthur?" He whispered. He turned, and rubbed his hand down the bed. "Arthur?"

He blinked, and began to sit up, struggling with the covers. "Arthur?"

Suddenly, he saw him. He was standing at the window, the light illuminating his face. The older man swallowed, got out of bed, and approached him. "Arthur, I-"

The younger man turned, and Eames saw the flash of a sharp blade. Before he could move, he felt the metal pierce his chest, slicing downwards. He tried to scream, and found himself jerking awake, sweat beading on his forehead, and his chest.

He turned, and saw Arthur lying next to him. Sleeping peacefully.

Eames swallowed, and ran his hand down the younger man's body. Arthur shifted, and purred slightly in his sleep. The older man moved over, and wrapped his arm around him.

"Mmmm," he whispered, cuddling close. Suddenly, he felt Arthur grip his hand, and pull it towards him tightly. "Its ok," Eames whispered. "Its ok. I'm here. I'm here for you."

He felt the grip on his hand tighten, painfully. He swallowed. "I'm here for my doll."

Arthur lessened his grip, and burrowed into the pillows. Eames turned, his face starting to quiver.

* * *

"They have to be in this country," Ariadne insisted. "He wouldn't just smuggle Arthur out."

"He would," Cobb said his voice tight. "Trust me, Eames would do anything to keep what he wanted."

Ariadne looked at him. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," Cobb said, "if he couldn't keep him, he might kill him." He noticed her face whitening, and quickly grabbed her hand. "But I don't think it will come to that. At least, I hope it won't."

* * *

Eames blinked as sunlight began to pierce through the clouds. Arthur was lying next to him, still asleep. The Forger pushed back the covers, and began to get up, pulling them back over the Point Man. He exhaled, and headed into the bathroom.

As he washed, he thought of the nightmare, and shuddered. "No," he muttered. "Not going to happen. It can't happen."

He took a deep breath and wandered back into the room. Arthur was starting to sit up, his expression sleepy. Eames, filled with a rush of tenderness, leaned over, and kissed him on the forehead. "Come on."

Arthur nodded, his expression dazed. Eames smoothed back his hair. "Come on," he said, gently. "We need to go."

Arthur shook his head, stubbornly, and Eames frowned. "No, Arthur, come on, we need to-"

Arthur grabbed his hand. "No." His tone was cold. "No."

Eames swallowed, unsure of what to do next. "Listen to me," he said, coldly, "the doll does what its told. And its being told that it has to leave. So its going to do it, or the doll will get hurt. Does it understand that?"

Arthur blinked, fear in his large eyes. Eames bit his lip in anger. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that-" He shook his head. "Now, come on, lets get you dressed."

Arthur complied, allowing Eames to lead him to the bathroom, standing silently as the older man manouvred him into the shower. He stood under the hot water as the Forger gently washed his back, carefully soaping and handling him. After time had elapsed, he led him out, into the main bedroom.

"Right, the doll needs to get dressed." Arthur nodded, recognising the command, and walked to the wardrobe. As he carefully dressed himself, the Forger began to feel a stab of fear.

"Now, listen," Eames began. "We're going to have to make our ways out of here, because I can't run the risk of you-"

There was a knock on the door. Ignoring it, the Forger continued. "We're going to have to leave, because-"

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Eames looked up in shock. Robert Fischer entered, with another man. Fischer nodded, coldly. "Eames, hand him over."

The Forger looked at him, shocked. "How did you-"

"I have my ways," Fischer said, his tone glacial. "You're easier to trace than you think." He nodded at Arthur. "So this is the doll?" he said, in a croon that made Eames wince. "What a good little thing it is. Come on, come to me."

Arthur stood, frozen. Eames shook his head. "No."

"No?" Robert shrugged. "Have it your way." Smiling coldly, he pulled out a gun.

**Reviews always appreciated. Thank you!**


	54. Chapter 54

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Eames looked at Fischer. "Robert, please, put the gun down." He swallowed, and moved towards Arthur. "Don't hurt him. Please."

"I don't intend to," Robert said, smiling. He looked at the younger man. "Its coming with me. Does it understand?"

To Eames' astonishment, Arthur nodded. Robert smiled, and held out his hand. "Come on."

Eames looked at Arthur. "Arthur, you can't go, you can't-"

Robert aimed the gun, and fired.

* * *

Cobb blinked, and rubbed his face. The sound of a ringing phone was piercing his subconscious. As his eyes flickered, he realised that it was the cordless model by the bed. He reached over, clumsily grabbing at it, fearful that he would also wake Ariadne.

"Hello?" he asked, his voice slightly fuzzy with sleep. He began to pull himself out of bed, and started to trudge into the lounge of his apartment. "Who is it?"

"Hello, Dom," a silky voice oozed out of the receiver. "I do hope you remember me."

Cobb frowned, and began to clutch the phone harder. "Robert?"

"Yes."

"Where are you?"

"Does it matter?" The other man's voice sounded smug. "Surely all that matters is I have Arthur with me." He chuckled. "Eames knew this would happen, after the way I was double crossed."

Cobb swallowed. "Eames may have double crossed you - I didn't, and neither did Arthur."

"Well, I have his most prized possession now." Robert's voice was supple, like a well-oiled snake. "And I'm sure Eames will be in touch. Soon."

"Robert, where are-" Cobb was met with silence, as the phone clicked off.

* * *

Robert turned his gaze towards the bed. Arthur was lying face down, on his stomach, his wrists bound to the bedstead. As the older man approached, he noticed that the previously passive look on Arthur's face was becoming replaced by aggression. He turned his head, his mouth gagged. Smiling, Fischer gently stroked his back.

"You'll be ok," he whispered. "You'll be my little doll now." Smiling, he turned, and left the room.

* * *

Eames blinked, and opened his eyes. The ceiling he was staring at was pristine white, and as a face came into view, he realised it was unfamiliar. A female face. She smiled at him, kindly, and as her mouth opened, a string of words fell out that he found hard to understand.

"What - what?" he murmured. As he struggled to sit up, he felt a burning pain in his lower left leg. He turned his head, and saw the slender IV pole, the medical equipment.

Hospital. He was in hospital. He sank back onto the pillows, feeling their cool softness. A man came in. He smiled at Eames, then, much to the Forger's relief, began to speak in English.

"How are you?" he asked, courteously.

Eames swallowed, his facial muscles twisting due to the uncomfortable sensation in his leg. "Been better."

The doctor nodded. "You'll be in here for a few days." He adjusted the IV bag with quick, deft fingers. "Is there anyone we could call for you?"

Biting his lip, Eames nodded. "Yes. Yes there is."

* * *

"Do have some coffee."

Nodding, Arthur reached for the cup. Robert smiled. Sitting opposite the younger man, he'd ordered his torso to be bound to the chair across the chest, and permitted his hands to be free.

"You do realise you have something to do for me?"

Arthur shook his head.

"You do realise that you won't be going back to Eames?"

Arthur looked at him, his expression blank.

Robert leaned back, and nodded. "No. You'll be going somewhere else. After you do that job for me." He picked up his own cup. "I never thought Eames would go through with incepting you - but then, I never thought Dom would incept you first."

He shrugged, and turned away from the other man's passive gaze. He didn't notice how Arthur was clutching the handle of the cup, and squeezing it until his knuckles turned white.

* * *

Cobb sank into a chair, rubbing his face. "Robert," he muttered. It had never occurred to him that he would still feel enough venom to try and intervene. He leaned forward.

Suddenly, the phone bleeped again. Annoyed, he snatched it up. "Hello?"

"Dom." A subdued sounding Eames floated through the device. Cobb clicked his tongue in exasperation. "Eames? What is it?"

"I need your help," the Forger's voice continued, sounding uncracteristically humble. "Please."

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	55. Chapter 55

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Robert looked at Arthur, who was lying on the bed. His expression was blank, staring at the ceiling. The slightly older man got up, and began to gently trace his fingers down his cheek.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, gently. "But I'd be justified. After the stunt you pulled..." He swallowed, and withdrew his hand. "After the stunt you pulled, going into my mind, trying to extract key secrets, I'd be justified in wanting to hurt you. But its perfectly simple. Eames is going to perform a little job for me, and then I might consider giving you back."

He turned, and began to walk across the room, heading for the door. "But, you may not go back to him." He smiled. "You're a perfect candidate for an asylum."

He closed the door, leaving Arthur alone.

* * *

"So, let's get this straight." Cobb sat down next to Eames, and studied the Forger. "You want me, when we find Arthur, to go into his mind, and extract everything?"

Eames nodded. "Yes." His tone was subdued. Cobb raised an eyebrow. "You don't ask for much, Eames."

"Look, Dom-" Eames began, then found his voice fading slightly. "Dom, I know what I did was-" he stopped again. "I just-"

"There is no justification, Eames," Cobb warned him, getting up. "No justification, because what you did was-"

"The same as you," Eames countered. "The same as you." He lapsed into silence.

"OK, we both abused him," Cobb said, heavily. "I was trying to protect him, you-"

"Don't give me that sanctimonious crap," Eames snapped, his tone coloured with anger. "You just couldn't bear the idea of me taking him from you. You couldn't bear the idea that he and I might start Extraction ourselves." He shook his head. "Its not going to work Dom, trust me."

Cobb swallowed. "So what do you suggest?"

"I suggest that we find Arthur, you extract, and then, I explain." Eaes laid down and stared at the ceiling. "And if he still wants me-"

"No, you've convinced him he wants you." Cobb looked at the Forger, hard. "You've convinced him he wants you, Eames."

Eames shrugged. "Maybe he does."

* * *

Arthur blinked. The lights in the room had been switched off, but he could still make out indeterminate objects. He smiled to himself.

Carefully, he began to push himself off the bed, and towards the door. He was still fully dressed, and found that the door had been left unlocked.

Opening the door out onto a corridor, he moved down it. He saw one door was ajar, and pushed it open.

Robert Fischer was sitting up in a bed. A large, luxurious looking double bed. He smiled, and pushed the covers down.

"Arthur," he said, gently. "Come and join me. Are you lonely?"

Arthur walked towards him, a slight smiled on his face. Fischer watched as the slender man approached, and flexed his fingers. "Come on."

Arthur pulled himself up onto the bed, and leaned towards Robert. The older man smiled. "Thats it. Good little doll."

* * *

"Where will he have taken him?" Cobb demanded. Eames rubbed his forehead. "Probably a hotel. Or his main plae of residence."

"Which is?"

"A penthouse." Eames shrugged.

"Paris?" Cobb's voice was becoming tighter.

Eames shook his head. "No." He smiled at Cobb, almost apologetically. "New York."

Cobb leaned back in his seat. "In that case, we're already at a disadvantage. They're back Stateside, we're over here, and-" He looked at the other man. "In that case, is there any point in even trying to find them?"

Eames looked at him. "Please." His tone was soft, apologetic. "Please."

Cobb shook his head. "I have no choice." He studied the Forger, carefully. "If I refuse you, and Arthur does anything - " he paused, reflectively. "If Arthur does anything, we could both be arrested." He swallowed, and sat down. "And then-"

"Please, Dom," Eames repeated. "After this, you'll never hear from me again."

* * *

"Come closer."

Arthur obliged, moving towards the older man. Robert responded by gently running his hand over his face. "Oh, yes," he breathed. "You are so perfect."

Arthur smiled.

"You are the perfect little doll, aren't you?" Fischer's tone was gentle, with a hard edge. "You're the perfect little doll, you're now my-"

Robert suddenly found himself choking, his words disintegrating. Arthur's hands were closing round his throat, and pressing down. Robert's eyes bulged at the pressure being applied.

"Let-" he could barely speak. "Let me-"

Arthur stared at him coldly, refusing to let go. Fischer stared at him, his eyes beginning to betray feelings of terror.

"Arth-"

Arthur continued pressing. As Fischer's eyes began to close, he started to loosen his grip.

**Thank you for reading, reviews appreciated!**


	56. Chapter 56

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Apologies for the hiatus!**

"Never hear from you again?" Cobb shook his head. "I've heard that several times, but-" he stopped. He could not afford to waste time arguing with Eames. He swallowed, and sat down.

"So, we go to New York." He looked at his hands. "And then what?" He studied Eames' face, looking for a reaction.

Eames swallowed. "Extraction. Of all of it. And then, Arthur can do what he likes, with us both." He rubbed his face.

"If Robert doesn't get there first," Cobb said, grimly. "And don't forget, he'll be getting assistance with this."

"Assistance?" Eames looked puzzled. "From whom?"

Cobb could barely form the word. "Nash."

Eames paled. "Nash?" He got up, agitated. "He hates Arthur!"

"He hates all of us," Cobb said, dourly. "Trust me." He looked at Eames. "And this is the perfect opportunity for him to get his revenge."

* * *

"Get off me!"

Arthur blinked, dazed, as he was thrown back across the bed. Robert was on his feet, his expression furious. Arthur raised a hand, and rubbed his cheek, which was beginning to bruise. He blinked, and looked at Robert.

"You stupid little-" Robert glared at him, and grabbed his shoulders. "You really think you can try and kill me? If anyone has the right to kill, its me, towards you! After what you did!"

He grabbed Arthur's arm, his fingers making indentions in the pale, smooth skin. "Get up," he snarled. "Get up, and let me show you something!"

Arthur blinked, his face expressionless. Robert, wrapped in a silk bathrobe, was pulling the nearly naked man across the floor of the bedroom. As he reached a pair of double doors, he pushed them open, with a crash.

In the middle of the room was a bed, surrounded by an array of medical equipment. The room was hushed, still. Lying in the bed was a man - easily twenty years older than Robert, if not more. He was attached to breathing apparatus.

"Take a look," Robert said, through gritted teeth. He pushed the younger man forward. Arthur's face betrayed not a flicker of recognition. Robert grabbed his arms, and pushed his face further forward.

"Recognise him?" His tone was a challenge, with an undertone of threat. "Thats my godfather - whats left of him. Whats left of him after you, and Eames, went into his mind."

Arthur stood, looking at Peter Browning. The older man's eyes were closed, with no life betrayed in his features. Robert, noticing the complete lack of reaction, grew even angrier.

"See what you did?" He snarled, practically spitting in the younger man's face. "All you had to do was extract the information he had! And what did you do? You sent him to limbo! You never even apologised! He's been in this state for two years!"

He released his grip, and smiled.

"But you're in a similar state now, aren't you? I know Eames wanted you, I only had to look at the way he behaved towards you on that job! Behaved that way towards you, when he was in my bed!"

Robert smiled maliciously.

"Yes, he was in my bed. Only, I could control him - he's a very needy man, you know that, Arthur?" He leaned forward and stroked Arthur's cheek. "I controlled him, and he couldn't stand it. He needed to be able to control someone himself- and thats why he picked you."

He leaned forward, and whispered. "But he can't control you now...I do. And you are going to undo this. You are going to go into Peter's mind, with Eames, and try and restore him. And then...Eames is staying with me, and you're going into the psych ward. Because thats where you belong."

He took Arthur's arm, and began to lead him back to the main bedroom. He opened another door, revealing a much smaller room.

"Here we are," Robert hissed. "Sweet dreams." Giving Arthur a shove, he pushed him inside. Arthur turned, blocked the closing door, and lashed out, letting a deep scratch form its way into Robert's face. The other man screamed, and tried to cover his skin. Shoving Robert aside, he began to run across the room, opening the door. As Robert followed, he slammed it, turned, and ran.

**All readers appreciated, and I'd love some reviews, thank you!**


	57. Chapter 57

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. Apologies for the hiatus with this fic!**

Arthur ran down the corridor, frantically looking for an escape route. His mind was confused, but he felt an intense fear. He had to get away from the other man. As he turned, he noticed another door. Opening it, he went inside, and began to close it.

He crouched down, and shut his eyes. Suddenly, another image floated into his mind, and his eyes began to open.

An image of him, hiding behind a door, holding a gun...

He blinked. Where had that come from? He stayed quiet, not sure of where to move to. He heard footsteps approaching.

* * *

Robert was stunned by Arthur's reaction. Feeling the rage gnawing within, he began to move after him. He walked slowly, trying to calm himself. As he saw the door close, he moved towards it, carefully checking his face for damage.

"Arthur," he called, softly. "Arthur, please come out." He leaned against the door. "I promise I won't hurt you. I promise I won't hurt the little doll."

* * *

Arthur heard his voice, and shook his head. Another image was coming to his mind, one of him, and Eames. They were in a room, both attached to a machine-

"Arthur!" He heard Robert's voice. "Please come out!"

Arthur swallowed. He moved inside the door. Suddenly, the door handle began to rattle. "Arthur- " the door began to open, and Robert entered. "Arthur?"

Suddenly, he was grabbed, and pushed across the bed. He gasped. "Arthur, what are you-"

"I-" Arthur blinked, and looked at Robert. "I- what- am-"

Robert began to smirk. "You're remembering. That was something Eames never really accounted for." He looked at Arthur. "So you've been used by Eames, who wanted you, and now I want you to fix a problem that you started, and now, its all starting to come through in your mind. Tell me, what was it like, being Eames' precious little doll? Did he use you just for fun? Or do you think he actually cared about you? Eames cares for no-one but himself, but I can be different!"

* * *

"So why does he want Arthur?"

"To fix a problem that we caused." Eames hurried after Cobb. "We were asked to extract from Browning - only it went wrong."

"So, this is retribution?"

"Yes." Eames shook his head. "How could we have created such a mess?"

"Because we're both-" Cobb stopped. "We're both at Robert's mercy now."

* * *

Arthur looked at Robert, unblinking. The older man smiled.

"You know, I could be happy with you...but you're with Eames, so-"

He leaned over, and put his face close to Arthur's.

"Come back to the room with me," he whispered. "Please, save Browning. When you have, I'll let you go. "

Arthur nodded. Another vision was beginning to follow - that of him walking away from Eames. He frowned, trying to place it. Fischer gently stroked his arm.

"Come on. Please."

Arthur nodded, and got up. Suddenly, he turned, and ran, slamming the door. Carefully, before Robert could react, he twisted the outside lock, keeping the other man firmly imprisoned inside. Turning, he ran to another door, marked "fire exit."

Arthur headed for the stairs, a survival instinct sustaining him. As he reached the bottom, he increased his pace. Eventually, he pushed the bottom door open, and found himself outside.

He was on a street. People were walking past, some not paying any attention. He took a couple of steps, swayed, and then, darkness began to close in.

**All reviews appreciated and read, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	58. Chapter 58

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

"Any idea of who he is?"

"None. He was just brought in. Apparently he collapsed on the street - no-one had any idea who he is, or where he was from."

"Let me get this straight." Mike Curtis swung round in his seat and looked at his colleague. "A young man is brought in - almost naked - in a state of collapse. No identification."

The male nurse nodded. "That's right. Oh, and he can't tell us who he is, either. Just babbles some nonsense about dolls." The young man raised an eyebrow. "Its bizarre."

Curtis got up. "Let me see him." Pulling on his sterile white coat, he followed the nurse down to the patient rooms. He gently tapped on the door of one, and entered. Arthur was lying on the bed, his eyes open, gazing at the ceiling.

"Hey," Curtis said, softly. "How are you?"

* * *

Robert reached for a glass of water, and took a sip, wincing. The pain in his head was sharp, and he rubbed his forehead. He turned over, onto his side.

"Arthur," he mumbled, softly. "Where are you?"

He got up, and reached for a bathrobe. He belted it loosely, allowing it to gape and expose part of his chest. He rubbed his face as he walked across the room, heading for the double doors.

He pushed them open, and headed towards the figure in the bed. Browning was still, the only perceptible sounds being the gentle, rhythmic hiss of the ventilator. He leaned over, and took one of his hands.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Peter,"he said, softly. "I found him, and brought him here, and he disappeared. Eames got to him first. I knew I should never have trusted him."

The other man's hand did not reciprocate the gentle squeeze, or the warmth of his fingers. He leaned back, swallowing. He felt a dull throb of anger, and getting up, pushed the chair away.

"Arthur," he whispered. "I will find you." He turned and looked at Browning. "And you will help me undo what you did."

* * *

"So, what is it you want to tell me?"

Eames looked up. Cobb's tone was guarded. "Nothing," he said, simply. He slouched back in his seat. "Nothing, except that we need to find Arthur, and we're not doing so."

"Anything else?" Cobb's tone was slightly sharp. "There's something I've often wondered. Something that I don't think you've ever been especially clear to me about."

"Which is?"

"What exactly was your relationship with Robert Fischer?" Cobb looked at him, full in the face. "You never really talk about it - did something happen?"

Eames looked at him. "We were lovers - for a short period. After the inception." He swallowed. "It didn't last, I promise. But, Robert had an idea - that his godfather was embezzling money from Fischer-Morrow. He wanted Arthur and I to extract it."

"And did you?"

Eames looked at the floor. "We tried," he admitted. "We failed. We sent Browning into limbo, though we got out."

"The last job," Cobb remembered. "Before I contacted Arthur and, incepted him."

Eames nodded. "Yes. So, whose really at fault here?"

* * *

Arthur blinked, and tried to focus on the other man's face. "Tired," he managed to get out. He moved his hand, listlessly. Curtis nodded.

"We're running some tests," he said, gently. "Trying to find out if you ingested any kinds of drugs, or poisons." He studied Arthur carefully. "Now, is there anything you remember? Anyone you want us to contact?"

Arthur blinked. His mind felt frozen. Then, he began to speak.

"Eames. I want Eames."

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!**


	59. Chapter 59

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

"Eames?" Curtis repeated, looking at Arthur. "Who is Eames?"

Arthur leaned forward, baring his teeth in a sickly grin. "Eames is..." he leaned backwards. "Eames is mine."

Curtis raised an eyebrow. "Would you care to be more specific?"

Arthur shook his head. "No."

"OK. Listen to me." Curtis lowered his voice, and looked directly at Arthur. "I want you to answer a few questions. When a young man, who is virtually naked, and clearly in a poor physical condition arrives at a hospital, our instinct is to ensure that they get good care. Understand?"

Arthur nodded.

"Right." Curtis looked at him. "What's your name?"

"Arthur."

"OK, thank you. And have you..." Curtis looked at him, "ever been hospitalised before?"

Arthur shook his head. "No."

"Has anything ever happened to you before?"

Arthur's lips parted in a grin. Curtis frowned, disturbed by the look.

"A lot of things," Arthur whispered. "A lot. They said they were helping me."

"Who did?"

"They did."

"Who are they, Arthur?"

"People who thought they could help me." Arthur's mouth twisted slightly. "But they just wanted to use me."

"Who did?" Curtis could feel himself growing impatient. "Who did, Arthur? Talk to me."

Arthur lowered his voice.

"Eames."

* * *

"May I help you?"

The young desk officer looked up, and found herself staring into a pair of hypnotic blue eyes. Robert Fischer, clad in a black suit, and with his face pale, stood in front of her, his lip quivering slightly.

"I hope so," he choked out. "You see, my boyfriend-" he blushed slightly, and she stood up, her face melting in sympathy- "has gone missing. He was with me last night, and now I have no idea where he is!"

She frowned. "Any reason for his disappearance?"

Fischer shook his head, his eyes wide and distressed. "I have no idea. You see, I'm-" he swallowed, and lowered his voice - "I'm Robert Fischer. I'm-"

"The billionaire?" she guessed. "Well, Mr Fischer, I suppose there are a lot of people who might want to take him."

"Yes, and I know they probably want a ransom." Fischer swallowed, his chin quivering slightly. "But I would really like him back."

She nodded. "Of course. Mr Fischer, come with me, and we'll get a description." Robert smiled inwardly - the tendency of people to pander to him and his money never ceased to surprise him.

"Of course," he sniffed.

* * *

"OK, Arthur, hold still." Curtis lowered the bed. "I'm going to give you a sedative. When you wake up, you'll feel more rested."

Arthur nodded, closing his eyes. He felt the slight prick of a needle in his upper arm.

Curtis left the room, closing the door.

* * *

"The best thing to do, Mr Fischer, is to start contacting the local hospitals. Its entirely possible that he's been taken there."

"Oh, yes." Robert nodded at the male detective. "You see, Arthur is not very mentally stable. He's had a breakdown. I was just trying to take care of him."

The detective, Jenns, smiled. "Very caring of you. Now, we'll start to trawl. If we can find a new patient who matches your description of him, then we can arrange for you to see him."

"Thank you," Robert purred. "Thank you very much."

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!**


	60. Chapter 60

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur looked up. Eames was standing in front of him, smiling.

"Guess you couldn't wait," he smirked, turning his head back to his laptop. The Forger took a couple of steps forward, and sat on the desk.

"You're right. I couldn't." He looked at the younger man. "I suppose I just wanted to see you before we leave."

"Well, let me finish here, and I promise work will be the furthest thing from my mind," Arthur replied. "But this job...you know how keen Dom is to get it right."

"I do," Eames said, sighing. "Going into the mind of the godfather of one of the most powerful men in the country...its something else."

"But we can do it," Arthur insisted. "Its not impossible."

"Maybe." Eames was leaning forward, gently tracing his finger over Arthur's cheekbone. Smiling, the younger man looked at him. "Half an hour. I promise."

"Wonderful." Eames started getting up, and walking out of the room. "See you then!"

Arthur blinked, opening his eyes. He focused on the ceiling, noting its faded cream and slight cracks. Swallowing, he turned and looked to the side. As he shifted, he realised he was strapped down at both his wrists and his ankles.

"Hey, you're ok."

He turned his head. A young female nurse was standing next to him, her expression hesitant. She was holding a basin, and a sponge.

"Listen, I need to-" she swallowed - "I just need to bathe you, if that's ok."

Arthur nodded, his facial muscles relaxing. She gently moved forward, and began to slide his hospital robe off his thin shoulders. Soaking the sponge, she carefully daubed him with the warm soapy water.

"Oh..." Arthur breathed. "Thank you."

She smiled. "Don't mention it."

Arthur lay perfectly still for twenty minutes, as she cleaned his chest and stomach. As she rinsed the water out, he smiled again.

"Have you-" He stopped, abruptly. She looked at him. "Have I what?"

"Ever been betrayed?"

She swallowed. "How do you mean?"

"Betrayed." Arthur's tone was insistent. "Betrayed by someone you actually loved."

"Well, I-" she paused. "I'm-" she looked at the floor. "I need to go." Slightly disturbed, she turned and began to slip out the door.

* * *

"I'm sure Arthur will be pleased he's got a visitor."

Robert smiled, beguilingly, at her. "Of course."

Suddenly, Curtis appeared, his white coat contrasting sharply with the sleek darkness of his suit. He stopped and looked quizzically at Robert. "May I help you?"

"I hope so," Robert responded, smoothly. "I would like to see Arthur Ogilvie please."

Curtis frowned. "May I ask why?"

"I'm a friend."

"Then the answer's no." Curtis looked at Robert, meeting his eyes. "Arthur is not in a fit state to see anyone. And as I'm his psychiatrist, my decision stands."

Robert's face twitched, the tendons in his neck standing out. "I must insist. You see, I'm-"

"It doesn't matter who you are," Curtis cut in. "Arthur is my patient, and will not be seen by anyone. Now, if you persist, I will ask you to leave."

Robert twisted his mouth. "I suggest you re-think that decision."

"And I suggest you leave. Now." Curtis stood firm. "Arthur is under psychiatric treatment, code 528. He is not able to see visitors. Now, please leave."

Fischer threw him a scornful look, and began to move off. Curtis swallowed, adjusting his tie as the slightly younger man walked away, his back and head held high. He turned to the nurse, his eyes cold.

"Do not-" Curtis' words were short and clipped - "do not let anyone near Arthur. Understand? And if he returns, call the police. I don't give a damn who he thinks he is - he is not getting anywhere near a patient."

The nurse, intimidated by the psychiatrist's anger, nodded. Curtis turned, and walked back to his office.

* * *

Robert stood outside the hospital, pulling out a cigarette. He rarely smoked, due to a distaste for the odour it left, but his anger was pulsing. He glared, resentfully, at the hospital building.

"I will come back for you," he muttered. After taking a drag on the lit cigarette, he exhaled, dropped it, and crushed it underfoot. With a smirk of satisfaction, he turned away.

* * *

Arthur smiled to himself. "Betrayal," he whispered. "Betrayal."

"Who betrayed you, Arthur?"

Arthur tilted his head, and looked at Curtis. "They did."

"How did they do that?"

"They made me think-" Arthur paused - "they made me think I was not who I am."

Curtis blinked. He'd never encountered a patient so willing to open up, so clearly mired in the depths of psychosis. He swallowed. "And what are you going to do to them?"

Arthur smiled, coldly. "Kill them."

**All reviews appreciated. Thank you!**


	61. Chapter 61

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Apologies for the hiatus. **

"OK, Arthur," Curtis said, conversationally, settling himself opposite the younger man. "Talk to me. Why do you-" he paused, gathering his thoughts - "want to kill them?"

Arthur leaned forward. "Because they deserve it."

Curtis swallowed. "What did they do?"

Arthur smiled, and raised an eyebrow. "Stole my identity. Now I want it back."

"How?"

The younger man leaned forward. "Ever heard of - dream extraction?"

Curtis bit his lip, and cast his eye warily over the younger man. "No," he said, honestly. "But I'm a psychiatrist, and I do believe in that dreams can reveal things about our inner subconscious."

Arthur leaned back, and shook his head. "No. I'm talking about going into dreams...and removing things."

The doctor swallowed. "Arthur...is that even possible?"

The Point Man nodded. "Yes."

"And this is what they - did to you?"

Arthur smiled. "Yes. They think I'm their toy. All of them."

Curtis, his head swimming, looked at Arthur. "Arthur. You refer to "them", but does it have something to do with the man who was here earlier?"

Arthur looked at him, warily. "What did he look like?"

Curtis took a deep breath, relieved that it was a simple question he could answer. "Tall. Pale. Thin." He glanced at Arthur. "Thick black hair."

Arthur nodded. "Yes...he could be one."

Curtis stood up. "That settles it. He's banned from this hospital." He looked at Arthur. "Until you've undergone some more tests, I need to keep you in for observation."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "If you think that's necessary."

"Oh, I think it is." Curtis turned to the door, and began to make his way to leave.

* * *

Robert prowled around his hotel room, too angry to try and relax. He fished another cigarette out of the packet, and put it in his mouth. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"What?" he barked, his voice roughened. "Can I come in?" a timid voice replied.

Sighing with exasperation, Robert pulled the cigarette out of his mouth. "Yes."

The door creaked open, and Nash entered. "Robert, I-"

"Just be quiet," the other man snapped, angrily. "If you had done what I asked-"

"But, this is Arthur!" Nash burst out. "I don't know if I can even get into his mind!"

"You were meant to use it," Robert growled. "That was the deal." He glared at him. "After what he and Cobb did to me...it was my opportunity to get something back. It was just luck that Eames wanted to take him over first. Otherwise...I might have seduced him instead."

"I know Arthur didn't plan to send Peter into limbo-"

"How do you know?"

"Because," Nash said, trying to calmly stand his ground, "I know Arthur. And I know that he wouldn't plan to-"

Fischer shook his head. "I don't believe you. Still, we can find him."

"We?"

"I can't go back there, to he hospital." Fischer's eyes were flashing. "But you could. You could find him, and bring him here."

Nash swallowed. "Robert...what if-"

"What if what?"

"Its dangerous-"

Fischer took a couple of steps forward, and locked eyes with the slightly older man. "You knew that it was dangerous, the minute you agreed to this." His voice was soft, undercut with menace. "You agreed to it, because you knew you'd get paid. And paid handsomely." Fischer's hypnotic blue eyes were starting to flare. "So don't start trying to claim that this is too dangerous, or you're afraid."

Nash swallowed, and tried to avert his gaze. "I'm not afraid," he said, confidently. Fischer nodded, smiling coldly. "Good."

"So...when do you want me to go to the hospital?"

Fischer took a drag on his cigarette, then exhaled, slowly. "As soon as possible."

* * *

"Stop pacing," Cobb said, irritably. He leaned back in his seat, and rubbed his face. "There's nothing-"

"No, there's everything," Eames said, his voice intense. "There's everything I can do. Find Arthur, bring him here, and-"

"Go into his mind again?" Cobb spoke, abruptly. "Do more damage?"

Eames shook his head. "To try and put things right."

* * *

"OK, I'm going to administer your medication in a while," the nurse said, almost timidly. "Is there anything you'd like?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. Thank you."

She nodded. "OK. I'll just leave you for the moment." She walked outside the cubicle, carefully ensuring the curtains were pulled to maintain privacy.

Arthur waited. Heard the door close. Then, turning to one side, began to tug at the leather straps that were restraining him. After several attempts, they started to loosen. Embolden, he pulled harder, and began to work them off.

* * *

The nurse began to walk down the corridor. As she did so, she spotted a tall, slightly unkempt looking man moving towards her. "May I help you?"

"Oh, I'm looking for Arthur. Is he along here?"

She nodded. "A visitor, that's sweet, he hasn't had many. Come this way!"

Nash smiled. "Thank you!"

* * *

Arthur sighed, frustrated. The skin around his fingernails was starting to tear, and he noticed, bleed. Swallowing, he attempted to pull one last time.

Suddenly, it came loose. Breathing a sigh of relief, he unbuckled it, and swiftly worked on the one restraining his other hand. Memories of similar situations were filtering back.

He paused, frowning. A memory of being tied to a chair, whilst Eames was heard shouting in another room. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Standing stiffly, he began to get up.

Suddenly, he froze. The door handle was scraping, and a creak revealed it to be opening. Straightening up, Arthur stood silently, ready to face the intruder.

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	62. Chapter 62

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

"Arthur?" he heard a voice. "Arthur, I know you're in here! Come on, here little kitten! Time to take you to your master! He misses his doll!"

Arthur stiffened. He turned, and saw a glimpse of the intruder from the bed curtain. Male, thin, spindly. He had a nervousness that indicated he was unused to dealing with these situations. Arthur took a step back, trying to be quiet. In his attempt, he accidentally knocked over a plastic water glass, and watched, tautly, as it bounced onto the floor.

The man stopped. Arthur frowned - he was jogging a memory. He'd seen him before, he was sure of it. He kept the curtain pulled, hoping that he would simply give up.

"Arthur, come on, be good..."

The footsteps were coming closer. He stood, taut as a wire, refusing to move. Suddenly, the curtain was whisked away, and he was face to face with his intruder.

"So!" Nash jeered, looking directly into his face. "There you are! Being very bad! And I was told by Robert that you would be so good! You were his little doll!" He took a step back, and smirked. "Oh, Arthur, you're so thin! What happened? Did they decide not to feed you? Did you annoy them, so they punished you by leaving you out in the cold?"

Arthur stood, rigid. Suddenly, Nash reached out, and began to touch his face. "I always thought you were a wimp, Arthur. That you were scared. Good thing Eames saw through you! And what you did to Browning - well, its no wonder Fischer's-"

Suddenly, Arthur's hand shot out, and grabbed Nash's wrist. With a casual flip, he twisted it, shocking the other man. Nash yelped, but Arthur's other hand covered his mouth.

"Shut up," he warned, causing Nash's eyes to widen. "Don't scream."

Nash's teeth moved - Arthur winced as they settled into he flesh on his palm, causing his eyes to narrow. He withdrew his hand, swallowing.

"Still a hothead," Nash said, coldly. "Listen. You're coming with me. Do you really think I'm going to let you slip through my fingers? Especially after the way you diddled me on that last job-"

Nash never finished his sentence. Arthur's fist shot out, dealing a heavy blow to the side of his face. The other man staggered, and Arthur punched him again. The other man began to collapse, glaring at him.

"You won't get away!" he rasped. "Not from him!"

Arthur shook his head. "I'll try."

Another memory flashed into his mind. Carefully, extending his fingers, he gently pressed the back of the other man's neck. As Nash's eyes closed, Arthur began to carefully pull off his shirt, then his hands unbuckled his jeans. As he tugged them off, he paused, waiting to hear for an intrusive nurse.

As he dressed, he swallowed. The door was shut. Then he moved to the window. Opening it, he noticed that it was three stories up.

"Not worth the risk," he muttered. Carefully, he shrugged into Nash's jacket. The other man's clothes were slightly too large, but he was glad that they fit as well as they did. He rummaged through the pockets, and found a wallet.

"Cash," he mumbled. He also found a cell phone. Switching it on, he scrolled through the numbers.

Swallowing he pressed.

"Hello?" a questioning voice asked.

Arthur swallowed. "The Doll is still alive."

"Arthur? Arthur!"

"Yes Eames."

Switching the phone off, Arthur put it back in his pocket, and zipping the jacket up, began to leave the room.

**reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this! I'm off on holiday for a couple of weeks, will pick this up when I get back! All readers are appreciated!**


	63. Chapter 63

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur steadied himself as he began to walk out of the room. Pausing in the doorway, he turned to both sides, and continued. Convinced the corridor was empty, he began to walk, careful to moderate his pace.

Suddenly, he heard a door opening. Realising he could be encountered, he looked desperately for a hiding place. The doors along the corridor were too much of a risk. He could walk in on anyone.

A young candy striper suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Fifteen, he estimated, with braces on her teeth. He swallowed and approached her. "Excuse me!"

She stopped. "Yes?"

He smiled, apolgetically, and walked more closely towards her. "I'm looking for the exit," he said, keeping his voice soft. "Am I going the right way?"

As he moved towards her, he heard the door shut, and footsteps. To his relief, they were walking in the opposite direction, and away from him and his teenage helper. She smiled, clearly eager to assist.

"You are. Just keep walking."

He nodded his thanks, and continued. Jamming his hands in his pockets, he began to adopt a nonchalent air, as though he'd been visiting a patient who was recovering well. As he walked, he spotted the exit. Without turning to look at the receptionist, or acknowledge any of the patients, visitors, or medical staff. As he walked out of the hospital, he headed for the nearest bus stop, digging his hand deep into his pocket to feel the smoothness of the loose change.

* * *

Eames turned to Cobb, his expression oscillating between anger and fear. "Arthur," he said, softly.

Cobb blinked. "What? Where is he?"

"He's gone." Eames swallowed. "I'm getting out of here."

"Eames." Cobb grabbed him by the shoulder. "You can't."

"I need to find him."

The Extractor bit his lip. "He'll kill you."

The Forger shrugged. "I have to take that risk."

* * *

Robert paced the floor of his office, waiting impatiently. He checked his watch, trying not to bite his lip.

It had been several hours since Nash had been dispatched, and there was no word. No confirmation he had convinced Arthur to come with him. Robert began to sink into his leather chair, feeling a mixture of irritation and bitterness.

Suddenly, he heard a noise. A stifled cry. Getting up abruptly, he began to walk into the adjoining room. Peter Browning was lying slumped in the bed, his eyes searching the ceiling, his mouth partially open. Robert noticed a trickle of salivia trailing from the older man's mouth, and grabbing tissues from the box next to the bed, began to gently wipe it from his face.

"Its all right, Uncle Peter," he said, softly. "I'm going to get this fixed. I shouldn't have let those bungling clowns into your mind, and they will pay for this. They extract, and then they're going to jail."

The other man merely stared wordlessly at the ceiling, looking for something only he could see. Confronted with the blank look, and lack of response, the young billionaire felt his lip quiver, and abruptly turned away.

* * *

Arthur got off the bus at a main city intersection, and looked around. It was late afternoon, and already the bustle of the early evening was beginning. Feeling inconspicuous, he began to walk, away from the wealthier centre and towards the seedier neighbourhoods. He ran his hand through his hair, leaving it dishevelled. As he walked, he began to feel calmer. After a few blocks, he stopped. Turning, he began to enter a cheap hotel. As he walked into the lobby, he noticed the layer of dirt on the shabby, worn looking furniture, and the tired looking desk clerk, a heavyset woman in her early fifties. He smiled, beguilingly.

It worked. She looked at him, her eyes focusing. "Hey hun. Want a room?"

Arthur nodded. He'd carefully counted the money in Nash's wallet during his bus journey, and had discovered over three hundred dollars. "How much?"

"Thirty a night. Cash only."

Arthur fished out the wallet. "Five days. In advance."

She nodded. "Thanks."

Arthur carefully pulled out the wad of notes, counted, and passed it to her. She tapped a large book with a pen. "What's your name?"

Arthur smiled, showing his teeth. "Eames. James Eames."

She nodded and wrote it down in print. "Would you sign?"

He did. Accepting the slightly rusted key, he turned, and began to walk up the stairs to the room. As he opened it, he wrinkled his nose at the smell of must, and opened a window.

It was small, and almost uninhabitable. A bed with a sagging mattress was pushed to the side, whilst a television was chained to a shelf. He wandered into the bathroom. A chipped ceramic sink greeted him, crowded in with a shower and toilet. He shrugged.

"It'll do," he muttered. Sitting down on the bed, he began to formulate his thoughts.

Eames. Eames had taken him. Cobb – he'd done something. Memories were stirring, jarring him. He swallowed. He'd taken Nash down, had known how to do so.

He got up, and carefully looked the door. Lying down on the bed, he closed his eyes, and tried to drift into sleep. Suddenly, he blinked. A buzzing noise was emanating from his pocket. Frowning, he fished out the cell phone, and opened it.

"Nash." Robert's bitter voice flowed from the device like bile. "Where are you? Where is he?"

"Where's who?" Arthur replied, softly.

He heard the voice pause. "Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Where-"

"You'll find out." Snapping the phone shut, he lay down on the bed, trying to calm his raging thoughts.

**All reviews appreciated. Thank you! I'm going away for a couple of weeks - will pick this up when I get back! Thank you for reading!**


	64. Chapter 64

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur looked up as the young waitress approached him. The diner he was sitting in was almost deserted, only a few people sitting in the faded vinyl seats. He had cast a look round as he'd entered, but reassured himself that no-one who would recognise him was there. He slid unobrtrusively into an unoccupied booth, and murmured his order to the waitress.

He blinked as she sat a plate down before him. Burger, and fries. A lot, he noticed of fries.

His mouth twisted. "Big order."

She shrugged. "I thought you might need it." She placed a glass of soda down next to the plate. "You're too thin." Without another word, she began to walk back towards the kitchen.

Arthur baulked. Another memory was starting to flood. Sitting across from Eames, poking his fork into another plate of overly rich food. Eames staring at him, lacsiviously-

Blinking, he tried to shut the image out, and reached for the burger. As the tart juiciness flooded his mouth, he felt a slight glow of satisfaction.

"The Doll will get fat if it wants to," he murmured, chewing and swallowing.

The waitress passed by, paused, and blinked.

"You ok?"

Arthur swallowed his mouthful, and turned to her. "Never better."

She nodded. "Great. More soda?"

He nodded. "Please."

She smiled, and took his cup. "Back in a sec."

He ate a couple of fries whilst she was gone. It felt a rebellious act, filling his body with junk food. As she returned, he smiled at her. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." She placed the cup on the table, careful not to spill the contents. "Never seen you in here before."

Arthur shrugged. "Just passing through. I'm visiting people."

"Oh." She looked at him, as though trying to work out who this taciturn young man would be visiting. "Anyone special?"

Arthur smiled, and took a sip of soda. "Very special."

She looked at him. "They're very lucky."

Arthur nodded as she walked away, his hand moving to the gun at his side. He gently caressed it. _No. No they're not. _

* * *

"I didn't mean - no, God, no!"

Robert Fischer stared dispassionately as Nash received a blow to the face. Tied to a chair in the middle of the room, the man looked pathetic, and weak. Coolly, the young billionaire folded his arms, and raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't mean?" His voice was flat, emotionless. "You didn't mean what? To let him escape? To let him go?"

Nash shook his head, his lip quivering as Fischer's nameless heavy took another step. The other man's fist collided with his fist, causing a scream of pain to emit from his mouth, and a slow trickle of blood from his nostril.

"Thanks to you, he's lost," Fischer snapped, coldly. "He could be anywhere. And he's in no fit state. What he did..." he swallowed, his jaw quivering slightly. He turned away, and nodded to the heavy.

"Deal with him."

Fischer stepped out of the room and closed the door, ignoring the yell of pain. He rubbed his forehead, his lips tightening into a grim line of satisfaction.

* * *

Eames swallowed as he began to walk the streets. _You're here. I know you are._

He had guessed Arthur would still be in the same city as Fischer. Hiding in plain sight. Allowing people to think he'd run. Eames smiled to himself. He knew Arthur. He was strong, cunning, and clever.

He shook his head. He was beginning to feel consumed by guilt, and also by desire. Memories of Arthur rode up and threatened to overwhelm him. He closed his eyes for a second, remembering the younger man lying on the bed.

"Oh, God," Eames had whispered. "You're so pretty. So perfect. Come here."

Arthur had complied, moving up the older man's larger body. Eames had gently traced his fingers through his hair. "Oh, Arthur, you're-"

Suddenly, the world began to swim before his eyes.

A blow to the back of the head rendered him confused. Eames took a step back, then began to fall to the ground.

**All readers appreciated, and I'd love some reviews, thank you!**


	65. Chapter 65

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

"Open your eyes."

Eames swallowed, feeling darkness swirl under his eyelids. He felt his mouth open, but no sound came out. Swallowing, he tried to speak. All he remembered was a heavy object hitting him...and then falling to the ground.

"I said, open your eyes."

With an effort, the older man forced them open. Arthur's face moved before his, cinnamon brown eyes locking with his pearl grey ones. "Are you awake, Eames?"

Eames swallowed, and tried to prop himself up. To his relief, he saw that his hands were free, and untied. He looked down at them, Arthur noticing. "I didn't tie you," he commented, almost defensively. "There would be no point. You would never stay quiet."

Eames looked at the younger man. "Arthur, I-"

"Oh, its Arthur." He allowed himself a mocking smile. "Not The Doll?" He got up, and paced to Eames. The size of the hotel room was small, and with the presence of the two men, almost claustrophobic. "I have my own name back now, my identity?" He shook his head. "The one you tried to violate, and steal from me. You, and Cobb."

"Arthur-"

"But its ok. I underestimated how sick you both are." Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Or, how sick you are. Dom did what he did to protect me from you. He tried to warn me off when he first realised you were interested." He swallowed. "Told me how manipulative you were, how you would just toy with me." He smiled. "I don't think he realised you wanted to turn me _into_ a toy."

"If you feel this way," Eames said, his voice cold, and controlled, "then why don't you just kill me?"

"Kill you?" Arthur raised an eyebrow, a look of scornful condescension crossing his face. Eames glared at him - that same look he both loved and hated. On the face he'd wanted to caress, to kiss. Only, he'd wanted it too much. He fell silent, allowing Arthur to finish his sentence.

"Killing you would be too easy." The Point Man shook his head. "Why should I go to jail for killing my abductor? Killing the man who wanted to deny me freedom, keep me locked away like a precious object?" He sat on the edge of the bed, causing the larger man to shift slightly. He leaned over, looking into Eames' face. "No, I think its only fair that you should be locked away. Only you'll be in prison saffron rather than suits, and on a narrow little bed rather than that four poster." He smirked. "It will be character building for you."

"How did you-" Eames swallowed. "How did you-"

"Invert the inception?" Arthur looked at him. "People remember, Eames. Flashes kept coming to me, flashes of my life. Memories of you, Dom, and I. Memories that I couldn't forget." He reached for his hand. "Do you remember when you took me to Antigua? We sneaked away, pretending to Dom it was work?"

Eames smiled. "How could I forget?" He leaned over, and caressed Arthur's cheek. "You and me...that hotel..."

"I think we upset the maids," Arthur responded. "Never opening our door, letting them into our room." He leaned forward. "But, you never wanted to let me out of bed."

"Well, you were a voracious little kitten," Eames replied. "And, I'm sure you still are."

"So why didn't you let me prove it, rather than incepting me?" Arthur's face hardened. "Can you explain that to me, Eames?"

The older man swallowed. "I wanted to protect you."

"Protect me?" Arthur leaned back. "How is taking my identity, controlling every aspect of my life, protecting me?"

"Protecting you from Fischer." Eames looked at him. "He wants you. He wants us both."

Arthur nodded. "I know. He tried to abduct me." He looked at his hands. "I should thank him. Him trying to take me forced me to remember who I was. Being your plaything...well, it was too easy."

"Arthur..." Eames reached out, and grabbed his hand. "Arthur, please. Let's just...leave."

"Leave?" Arthur's eyes bored into his. "What do you mean, Eames?"

"I mean, we just go." Eames' tone was insistent. "Get new passports. Leave. Go anywhere in the world."

A smile curled the corners of Arthur's mouth. "You're such a coward, Eames. Underneath all that arrogance and bluster, you're a coward. You used to look at me like a fox looks at a hen, but you could only really have me after you violated my mind. Because you were scared I'd reject you. And as for Fischer...you made us do that job, because you were scared of what he'd do. He'd found out he was incepted. You knew he'd send us to jail."

Eames fell silent.

"But you're not running away now. I'm going to deal with Fischer. Then I'm going to deal with Dom. And then..." Arthur's eyes flickered over him, coldly - "I'm going to deal with you."

The Forger looked at him. "Arthur-"

"Get some sleep," The Point Man said, curtly. "Its well after 1am." Standing up, he walked to the door, and opened it. Eames sank back, hearing the door shut and lock behind Arthur's retreating figure.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	66. Chapter 66

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Eames swallowed, his eyes flickering restlessly. The bed was uncomfortable, and he thought grimly how he could have sunk this low. Or, Arthur.

He sighed. Arthur had left and been missing for a few hours. He was beginning to wonder if he'd ever return.

_Maybe he intends to leave me here. Fitting punishment. _

Suddenly, the door opened with a sharp click. The older man stiffened, then began to relax as Arthur entered, clutching a paper bag. He looked at Eames.

"Did you sleep?"

The Forger grimaced. "No, not really."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Must be tough, lying on that bed after the one you own."

Eames looked at him, refusing to rise to the bait. "I'm...adaptable."

The Point Man smirked. "I'll bet you are." He opened the bag, and pulled out a doughnut. With Eames watching, he proceeded to place it in his mouth. As he bit down, the jam began to ooze, running along his fingers, reminding the Forger of blood.

Eames shifted. "Arthur?"

The younger man chewed, and swallowed. "What is it?"

"Can I-" Eames swallowed, the sight of the food a reminder of how hungry he was. "Have some?"

Arthur looked at him. "You want some?"

Eames nodded. "Yes, I do."

Arthur smiled. "Well, Eames, you shall have some." He turned. "Sit up."

Eames did so, realising that his bond had been loosened. Arthur nodded. "On your knees."

Suddenly, Eames realised what Arthur was intending. He looked at the other man. "Arthur..."

"Eames." Arthur's voice was hard. "On your knees. Now."

The Forger swallowed, then lowered himself to the floor. Arthur covered the floor in two steps, and stood in front of him. Silently, he began to pull down his fly.

The Forger wet his lips. He was mesmerised. A powerful longing was beginning to consume him. He began to gently open the material, exposing what he deeply desired.

Arthur closed his eyes. As Eames leaned forward, he grabbed his shoulders.

"No," he whispered. "Wait." Leaning down, he kissed him on the mouth. Startled, Eames wrapped his hand round the back of his head. Before Arthur could move, the older man had pulled him down, the two of them entwining on the bed.

"Eames-" Arthur gasped, feeling the weight of the older man. "Eames."

"Sssshhh," Eames said, his breath gentle against Arthur's ear. "Ssshh, its all right. I haven't been with you...for too long."

He turned the two of them over, Arthur crushed against him. He placed his hand under Arthur's t-shirt, running his hand over his chest. "Arthur...you're so thin!"

Arthur looked at him. "You mind?"

"Well..." Eames' voice trailed off. "I do." He gently ran his fingers over Arthur's stomach. The Point Man flinched. "It bothered you before."

"What did?"

"Bother you that I'd get fat." Arthur looked at Eames, his face darkening. "When you had me, you wouldn't let me get fat. Remember?"

Eames swallowed. "Arthur, I-"

"Just part of your plan," Arthur breathed. "To keep me weak and helpless." He shook his head. "Get off me, Eames."

The Forger pressed down. "No."

"Get off me, Eames." Arthur's tone held an undercurrent of menace. "Get off me."

"No," Eames breathed. "You wanted this-" he pressed his lips down hard, on Arthur's mouth. The younger man struggled, but Eames pressed down, hard. "You wanted this-"

Suddenly, he found himself rearing up. Arthur had struck him, in the face. Pushing Eames aside, he began to get up. He was shaking, and his lip was curled.

"Don't." His voice was tense. "Don't, Eames."

The Forger shook his head. "You can't stand being submissive, can you Arthur? Can't bear that that's what I do to you."

"No," Arthur said, shaking his head. "I can't bear being manipulated."

Suddenly, Eames' cellphone began to shrill. The Forger swallowed. Arthur smiled, and pulling out a gun, pointed it at is face. "Answer it."

**Please review - it is appreciated!** **Thank you for reading this fic!**


	67. Chapter 67

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Eames stared at Arthur. The younger man's face was completely impassive, not even a flicker of an eyelid betraying his feelings. The older man swallowed, and smiled placatingly.

"Of course." He pulled out his cellphone, and clicked it. "Hello?" he asked, pleasantly. His eyebrows lifted, and he nodded. "Oh, of course." He swallowed again. "Of course." He clicked off, and carefully slid the phone in his pocket.

"Well?" Arthur snapped, his voice harsh. "Who was it? Robert?"

Eames looked at him, almost mockingly. "Wouldn't you like to know." His voice held a note of taunting in it, causing Arthur to stiffen, his muscles tense. Suddenly, Eames was on his feet, moving quickly towards the younger man. Before Arthur could move, the larger man's hand clenched around his wrist, tightening painfully. The Point Man gasped, his grip on the gun loosening, and in response, his other arm swung round, trying to aim for the Forger's face.

Eames simply grabbed it, twisting it. Arthur gasped with pain as his arm was wrenched, and finally the gun fell from his fingers. Eames merely kicked it across the floor, lodging it under the bed. The older man proceeded to push Arthur over, causing them both to land upon the bed. Arthur struggled, and as Eames shifted his weight, straddling him, he seemed to become inert. Eames leaned down, and began to kiss his neck.

"You always did like it rough," he muttered. "Who would have guessed that beneath that prim exterior was someone who liked it dirty?"

Arthur turned his head slightly, allowing another kiss to fall on his neck. "Who called you?"

"Robert," Eames murmured, landing little kisses on his face. "Robert, wanting to know if I'd..found you."

"And you told him?"

"Nothing," Eames said, quietly. "Because I've had enough of this. We need to go. Together. Anywhere. We can make money - let's just run away together!"

Arthur looked at him, his dark eyes impassive. "Not your helpless little doll anymore, am I?"

"Arthur," Eames said, his tone darkening, "you were always my helpless little doll!" He reached out with a finger, and began to trail it down his cheek. "You were always so...ready for me! I just wanted to make the situation...more real." He began to wrap his arms around him. "But, think about this - you weren't happy in the life you were living. You were just Cobb's lackey, and I...set you free."

Arthur's eyes widened. "What?"

"You were mine, but I'd never have hurt you." Eames' tone was quiet, he looked almost wistful. "You had everything you wanted - and I'd never have put you in danger. You were too precious to me for that, far too precious."

Arthur looked at him. "I don't believe you."

"Trust me," Eames purred. "Trust me, Arthur. Let's forget this. Let's leave Robert, leave him in his bitterness. You and I could still have a life, a future together!"

Arthur shook his head. "It won't work." He studied Eames, his dark eyes sad, and containing flickers of anger. "It won't work, Eames. You took me, tried to programme me...you and Cobb." He shook his head.

"I love you," Eames said, finally, his voice gentle, pleading. "I love you, Arthur."

"I loved you," Arthur whispered. "Loved. Let me go. Let me finish what I need to finish."

Eames stroked his hair. "Arthur...Arthur I-"

Suddenly, there was a loud banging at the door. Arthur stiffened. "Who is it?" he shouted.

"Keep the noise down!" An angry voice slurred. "People need to sleep!"

Arthur ignored them. After a few moments, a shuffling noise was heard, indicating the voice's owner was retreating back to their room. Arthur looked at Eames.

"Take me to Fischer," he said, quietly. "Take me to Fischer, and then, you'll never hear from me again. And no-one will ever know what you did."

Eames swallowed. "I will take you to him. But Arthur...?"

"What?"

"Will you ever forgive me?"

Arthur heard the pleading note in Eames' voice. He shook his head as the older man began to relax his grip, allowing him to stand. "No," he said, softly.

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!**


	68. Chapter 68

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Eames looked at Arthur. He was sitting quietly on the bed, almost compliant. Eames smiled at him.

"This will be so easy. I'll take you to Robert, and then, hopefully, he'll let us go."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Then we go our separate ways."

Eames swallowed. The harsh edge to the younger man's voice was wounding. "Of course," he agreed, nodding. He looked at him. "Shall we?"

Arthur stood up, his clothes hanging loosely on his slight frame. He turned, and he and Eames exited the room.

* * *

Robert smiled at Browning. The older man's eyes were closed, giving the impression of sleep. He reached out, and stroked his forehead. "Don't you worry," he said, softly. "This will be fixed."

He smiled to himself. Eames was delivering Arthur to him, and that was how it should be. He got up, moving from his godfather's bedside to his main office. He walked over to a tray of drinks, and with slightly langourous movements, poured himself a scotch.

He raised the glass to himself, his smile triumphant. Taking a sip, he sank down into a leather backed chair, and pulled out a phone ledger. Combing through the numbers, he reached for a sleek phone, and dialled.

After a few moments, a voice answered. "Hello?"

"Dom?"

There was a silence. "Fischer?"

"Well, hello, that's very friendly. Thought I should let you know - Eames is bringing me Arthur. Finally, he's mine."

There was a silence at the end of the line. Robert smiled, waiting for the response. After none was forthcoming, he began to speak again. "I hope you realise that the last job you did that ruined my godfather's life...well, this is his opportunity to put it right."

"You know that he'll be undertaking an extraction whilst fighting an inception." Cobb's voice was dark. "There is potential that his mind will be completely gone."

"He sent my godfather into limbo. What about his mind? Are you going to argue? Or would you prefer...jail?"

Cobb fell completely silent. "You know that I'm worth more to you, working for you on the outside, than sitting in jail doing nothing."

"Absolutely. But, if this doesn't work, I'll have all three of you in there. Or maybe, not Arthur. Maybe I'll keep him, as a little pet." He clicked off, and leaned back, smiling.

* * *

Eames looked at Arthur. The other man was completely composed, merely looking straight ahead. Eames reached over, and placed his hand on his. Arthur looked at him, almost surprised.

"It will be ok," Eames said, regretting the words as they fell out of his mouth. "It will."

Arthur stared straight ahead. "Of course it will."

Eames swallowed, trying to think of a response. Suddenly, he noticed that Arthur's fingers were curling round his. The younger man looked at him, directly.

"It will be all right," he said, nodding. Stunned into silence, Eames sank back down, unable to think of a response.

The cab drove on. After what seemed an interminable length of time, they pulled into the front of an elegant building. Eames looked up. The headquarters of Fischer's business Empire, he knew that Robert's penthouse was potentially the most dangerous place now in the city.

Swallowing, he began to walk towards the building's entrance, followed by Arthur.

The ride up to the penthouse was torturous. Neither man looked at each other. Finally, the doors opened, and they exited. As they walked into Fischer's space, the pale, slender man got up to greet them.

"Eames. Finally." His gaze turned upon Arthur.

"And finally - you."

Reviews** are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!**


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